8b 
ND 
588 
. A4 
1182 
1901 


■ 


THE  ARTIST’S  LIBRARY 


By  T.  STURGE  MOORE 


THE  J.  PAUL  GETTY  MUSEUM  LIBRARY 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/altdorferOOmoor 


ALTDORFER  BY  T.  STURGE  MOORE:  NUMBER 
THREE  OF  THE  ARTIST’S  LIBRARY  EDITED 
BY  LAURENCE  BINYON  AND  PUBLISHED 
BY  LONGMANS  GREEN  & CO  NINETY-ONE 
AND  NINETY-THREE  FIFTH  AVENUE  NEW 
YORK  AND  AT  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  UNICORN 


VII  CECIL  COURT  LONDON 


Altdorfer 

BY  T.  STURGE  MOORE 


NEW  YORK 
LONGMANS  GREEN  & CO 

LONDON:  AT  THE  UNICORN  PRESS  MDCCCCI 

Nb 


PREFACE 


This  little  book  has  been  delayed  by  the  attempt  to  make  the 
illustrations  as  representative  as  possible.  In  the  meantime  Dr. 
Schmidt  has  published  a photograph  in  the  Munich  Handzeich- 
nungen  Alter  Meister  of  both  surfaces  of  a wood  block  on  which 
is  a design  by  Altdorfer  partly  cut,  the  reverse  being  a few  slight 
sketches.  Examination  of  this  photograph  strengthens  my 
opinion  that  Mr.  C.  S.  Ricketts  is  justified  in  considering 
Altdorfer  as  his  own  interpreter  on  the  wood  block ; nevertheless 
it  can  hardly  be  held  to  furnish  an  absolute  proof  that  he  was  so. 

The  illustrations,  seven  at  least  of  which  now  appear  for 
the  first  time,  give,  I believe,  a far  more  adequate  view  of 
Altdorfer’s  work  than  has  hitherto  ever  been  presented  to  the 
public ; and  when  the  volume  of  the  proposed  series  entitled 
Little  Engravings , which  is  to  contain  the  whole  of  his  work  on 
wood,  is  added,  as  the  Unicorn  Press  intends  it  soon  shall  be, 
every  artist  will  have  to  hand  ample  material  for  a profitable 
study  of  our  artist. 

I have  now  only  to  express  my  thanks  to  Mr.  Campbell 
Dodgson  of  the  British  Museum  for  generously  laying  the  stores 
of  his  erudition  on  this  and  similar  subjects  at  my  disposal,  and, 
with  Mr.  L.  Binyon,  supplying  my  deficiency  in  German.  I 
must  also  thank  Dr.  Lippmann  of  Berlin,  the  Ritter  von  Lanna 
of  Prague,  Dr.  Dornhoffer  of  the  Imperial  Library,  and  Director 
Joseph  Schonbrunner  of  the  Albertina  at  Vienna,  Pater  Czerny 
of  St.  Florian,  Dr.  Boll  of  the  Munich  Library,  and  many  others, 
for  the  kindness  with  which  they  furthered  me  towards  the  attain- 
ment of  the  object  of  my  travel,  in  the  various  lands  through  which 
the  pictures  or  drawings  of  Altdorfer  led  me.  The  Directors  of 
the  Galleries  at  Bremen  and  at  Sigmaringen  have  also  kindly 
helped  in  the  photographing  of  pictures  under  their  charge. 

The  biographical  part  of  the  book  owes  much  to  the  work  of 
Dr.  Friedlander  (1891),  and  to  the  very  full  article  by  Dr. 
Schmidt  in  Meyer’s  Kiinstler- Lexicon. 


T.  Sturge  Moore. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


A.  PICTURES  AND  DRAWINGS. 

r.  Pyramus  Dead  ; a drawing  in  the  Berlin  Print  Room. 

2.  The  Holy  Family  at  the  Fountain ; Berlin  Gallery. 

3.  The  Birth  of  the  Virgin ; Augsburg  Gallery. 

4.  Susanna  at  the  Bath ; Munich  Gallery. 

5.  The  Battle  of  Arbela ; Munich  Gallery. 

6.  The  Satyr  Family ; Berlin  Gallery. 

7.  The  Nativity ; Vienna  Gallery. 

8.  The  Sacrifice  of  Abraham  ; a drawing  in  the  Albertina,  Vienna. 

9.  Departure  of  Quirinus  ; Siena  Gallery. 

10.  St.  George;  Munich  Gallery. 

11.  The  Agony  in  the  Garden ; a drawing  in  the  Berlin  Print  Room. 

1 2.  The  Adoration  of  the  Magi ; Sigmaringen  Gallery. 

13.  Martyrdom  of  Quirinus  ; Siena  Gallery. 

14.  The  Adoration  of  the  Magi;  a drawing  in  the  Berlin  Print  Room. 

15.  Poverty  and  Riches  ; Berlin  Gallery. 

1 6.  Madonna  and  Child ; Munich  Gallery. 

17.  The  Nativity;  Bremen  Gallery. 

B.  ENGRAVINGS  ON  COPPER. 

1 8.  The  Madonna  with  the  Cradle ; St.  Christopher. 

1 9.  The  Death  of  Dido ; The  Centaur ; The  Virgin  in  the  Synagogue. 

20.  The  Crucifixion. 

C.  WOODCUTS. 

21.  Four  subjects  from  the  Passion. 

22.  Four  subjects  from  the  Passion. 

23.  The  Return  of  the  Spies. 

24.  The  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds. 

25.  St.  Christopher. 

The  photographs  for  Nos.  4,  5,  10,  and  16  were  supplied  by  Messrs.  Bruckmann, 
those  for  Nos.  2 and  6 by  Mr.  F.  Hanfstaengl,  those  for  Nos.  9 and  13  by 
Signor  Lombardi  of  Siena ; those  for  Nos.  1,  11,  and  14  were  specially  made  by  the 
Imperial  Press,  Berlin ; and  those  for  Nos.  7 and  8 by  Messrs.  Angerer  and  Goschl 
of  Vienna. 


6 


INTRODUCTION 


I 

What  is  the  vital  question  before  a picture — who  painted  it, 
when  and  where  it  was  painted,  how  it  was  painted ; or,  why  it 
was  painted,  what  it  does  for  us,  how  it  does  this  ? For  my 
own  part,  I confess  that  the  first  three  questions  seem  of  minor 
importance.  Doubtless  the  best  pictures  were  all  painted  by  the 
best  artists.  It  is  no  great  matter  what  names  they  bore,  when 
and  how  they  lived,  where  and  with  whom.  So  we  but  know 
great  pictures,  we  cannot  fail  to  know  great  artists  in  a direct 
and  satisfying  manner ; not,  indeed,  face  to  face,  but  spirit  to 
spirit. 

What  are  the  master  motives  that  should  govern  the  painting 
of  pictures  ? Some  cry,  a desire  to  imitate  nature — to  deceive  the 
eye, — a sad  avowal. 

“We’re  made  so  that  we  love 
First  when  we  see  them  painted,  things  we  have  passed 
Perhaps  a hundred  times,” 

as  Browning  makes  Fra  Lippo  Lippi  say ; but  can  it  be  a rational 
end  to  love  things  unworthy  of  our  love,  or  can  all  things  really 
deserve  love  ? Common  sense  will  not,  I fancy,  be  easily  convinced 
of  either  of  these  propositions.  Meanwhile  others  cry,  a desire  to 
please  must  be  the  master  motive.  This  seems  more  plausible 
and  is  certainly  more  common  ; but  we  find  a great  modern  artist 
quoting  from  Epictetus  with  approval : “If  thou  seekest  to  please, 
behold,  thou  art  straightway  fallen ! ” and  I also  must  side  with 
Epictetus  and  not  with  Mr.  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  and  his  many 
friends.  Other  some  there  are  who  cry,  the  desire  to  improve 

7 


others  and  one's-self.  Now,  although  Ruskin  has  been  much  decried, 
this  does  appear  a worthy  motive  ; the  improvement  is  so  obviously 
needed.  Yet  unfortunately  there  are  a multitude  of  ways  in  which 
we  could  bear  improving,  and  apparently  little  reason  for  preference 
of  betterment  by  means  of  art.  Have  the  great  artists  been  those 
who  most  strenuously  strove  to  improve  others  or  even  themselves  ? 
Have  they  not  rather  shown  a tendency  to  be  contented  by 
advancing  art  ? Lastly,  what  improvement  is  it  that  does  result 
from  art  ? These  questions,  except  the  last,  leave  me  utterly  in 
the  lurch  ; but  for  that  last  I find  an  answer  at  the  tip  of  my 
tongue : Beauty  improves  by  educing  elevation,  delicacy,  and 

refinement,  and  it  also  exhilarates ; and  in  Greece,  and  even 
once  or  twice  since,  you  might  have  found  whole  companies 
that  would  have  stared  at  you,  if  you  had  suggested  that  art 
had  any  other  business  than  the  discovery  and  revelation  of  the 
beautiful. 

And  now  can  we  not  reform  this  demand,  that  art  should  seek 
to  improve,  by  saying,  that  art  seeks  to  reveal  beauty,  and  that 
contemplation  of  beauty  exhilarates,  refines,  and  elevates  ? Reveal 
beauty ! that,  then,  is  for  the  artist  the  sovereign  command. 
Contemplate  beauty ! obedience  to  that  is  for  all  men  a prime 
assistance  towards  exhilaration,  refinement,  elevation  ; and  what 
do  we  more  need  ? 

II 


“The  Battle  of  Arbela,”  by  Altdorfer,  “so  captivated 
Napoleon,  that  it  was  carried  off  and  hung  in  his  bathroom  at 
St.  Cloud.”  This  is  testimony  indeed  to  the  power  of  painting! 

But  some  will  carp  that  they  do  not  judge  the  mind  of 
Napoleon  to  have  been  distinguished  for  delicacy,  refinement,  or 
elevation  ; and  though  I would  not  take  the  judgment  of  such 
charitable  souls  for  more  than  it  is  worth,  yet  perhaps  one  may 
admit  that  Napoleon  was  more  noteworthy  for  the  exhilaration 
that  overflowed  from  him  and  which  may  still  be  received  from 
the  records  of  his  life,  than  for  delicacy,  refinement,  or  eleva- 
tion. 

“The  eye  loses  itself  in  a wilderness  of  landscape,  valleys, 
plains,  mountains,  capes,  and  promontories,  azure  in  the  distance, 
with  the  sea  beyond  them  and  islands  beyond  that  again,  still 

8 


extending  and  expanding  as  if  we  gazed  with  Satan  from  the  top 
of  Niphates.”  This  description  is  from  the  pen  of  Lord  Lindsay  : 
and  I think  it  will  not  be  denied  that  for  him  the  picture  had 
evoked  elevated  recollections ; and  perhaps  even  our  charitable 
friends  will  not  refuse  some  elevation  to  Napoleon  akin  to  that  in 
which  Milton’s  conception  of  Satan  may  be  said  to  be  lofty.  The 
man  did  tower  ; and  this  towering,  exhilarating  man  was  captivated 
by  a picture  : the  subject  of  the  picture  helps  to  explain  why. 
Here  is  Alexander  in  golden  mail  with  all  the  chivalry  of  Macedon 
pricking  closely  behind,  their  lances  in  rest.  Here  is  Darius 
turning  to  observe  them  from  his  massy  car  that  rolls  too  slowly 
for  escape ; his  charioteer  lies  dead  across  the  splash-board  at  his 
feet ; but  from  under  the  hoofs  of  his  great  foe’s  charger  blood 
spurts  up,  while  his  lance  strikes  across  a space  of  gloom  wherein, 
if  the  eye  searches,  it  discovers  bodies  of  men  and  horses  cumber- 
ing the  ground.  Farther  off  there  are  fortresses,  ballistas,  engines, 
towns,  wharves,  and  ships,  to  convey  yet  more  of  alertness,  effort, 
hazard,  and  purpose  huge.  And  all  is  painted  with  the  utmost 
delicacy  of  the  camel-hair  pencil,  as  though  an  insect  had  done  it. 
A whole-hearted  faith  in  the  magnanimous  splendour  of  the 
incident  has  harmonised  the  vast  motives  of  landscape  and  war  at 
their  richest,  and  captivates  the  attention.  Like  the  sudden  sense 
of  isolation  and  stillness,  almost  of  silence,  that  may  be  borne  in 
upon  one  who  is  in  the  heart  of  some  surging  uproar,  so  is  the 
presence  of  beauty  felt  amid  the  overcharged  excitement  of  this 
picture,  where  cloud  and  mountain,  light  and  darkness,  sea  and 
land  join  in  chorus.  And  this  beauty,  this  stillness,  this  isolation 
is  not  the  tragic  crown  of  a great  soul’s  effort,  of  dripping  thorns 
and  radiant  suffering,  it  is  a romantic,  dreamlike  charm  unstraitened 
by  reality.  This  heaven  of  romance  is  perhaps  oftener  visited  by 
the  man  of  the  world,  and  certainly  of  easier  access,  than  the  high 
heaven  of  aspiration  and  fortitude.  Here  the  soul  of  Napoleon 
may  well  have  entered  to  repose  and  recreate,  and  to  enter  here 
might  be  a benefit  even  for  those  who  look  and  strive  for 
better. 

Gustave  Flaubert  in  one  of  his  letters  tells  us  that  a man- 
servant of  his  who  took  snuff  habitually  murmured,  as  though  to 
excuse  himself,  “ Napoleon prisait ” (“Napoleon  took  a pinch”);  and 
he  adds  that,  in  effect,  this  common  habit  of  theirs  did  establish  a 
bond  between  them,  which,  without  much  degrading  the  great  man, 

9 


greatly  raised  the  rascal  in  his  own  esteem.  To  find  ourselves 
admiring  what  so  living  and  effective  a man  had  admired,  would 
be  pleasant  to  many  of  us  who  might  not  care  to  contract  all  his 
minor  habits.  And  to  know  that  he  was  charmed  by  what  we  are 
invited  to  study  may,  and  I think  rightly  should,  lend  us  some 
additional  eagerness  and  curiosity. 


io 


ALTDORFER’S  LIFE 


When  we  ask  where  and  how  our  artist  lived,  we  are  rewarded 
by  few  facts  and  many  uncertainties.  The  place  and  date  of  his 
birth  remain  doubtful.  In  1505  he  was  registered  a burgher  of 
Ratisbon,  being  described  as  “painter  of  Amberg,  twenty-five 
years  of  age.”  His  father  may  have  been  an  Ulrich  Altdorfer 
registered  burgher  in  1478 ; who  may  afterwards  have  removed  to 
Amberg,  in  which  case  Albrecht  could  either  have  been  born  before 
his  removal  or  after  it. 

An  engraving  (Bartsch  VI.  p.  416,  No.  1),  dated  1506,  is  by  a 
brother  Erhard,  and  is  very  like  Albrechts  work  of  the  same 
period  ; both  may  therefore  have  been  ’prentices  to  their  father, 
and  both  were  already  capable  craftsmen.  The  manner  in  which 
their  work  is  executed  has  been  supposed  to  be  developed  from  the 
Ratisbon  illuminators  of  that  date  ; and  certain  analogies  must  be 
admitted  : however,  it  is  a strikingly  bold  and  advanced  develop- 
ment by  the  year  1 506  ; and  as  no  links  are  extant,  we  may 
ascribe  the  honour  of  the  progress  to  the  problematic  Ulrich  or  to 
the  young  men,  his  sons,  or  to  Albrecht  alone,  whose  after  achieve- 
ments yield  some  real  purchase  for  thus  prophesying  backwards. 

Erhard  became  court  painter  to  Duke  Henry  of  Mecklenburg 
and  several  books  published  at  Ltibeck  and  Rostock  contain 
woodcuts  by  him  : other  plates  and  cuts  exist ; but,  separated 
from  his  brother,  his  work  falls  away  to  mediocrity. 

In  1509  the  Council  of  Ratisbon  contributed  ten  gulden  towards 
a picture  by  Albrecht  for  the  choir  of  St.  Peter’s.  In  1513  he 
bought  a house  with  tower  and  courtyard  in  the  Obere  Bach  Gasse, 
hard  by  the  Austin  Friary;  this  house  still  stands,  though  con- 
siderably modified.  A second  house  in  the  Spiegelgasse  was 

1 1 


bought  in  1518,  but  he  retained  it  only  four  years.  In  1532  a 
third  house  was  bought.  This  house  has  been  less  modified  than 
that  in  the  Obere  Bach  Gasse,  and  now  bears  an  inscription  : 
“ Wohn  und  Sterbehaus  des  Malers  und  Baumeisters  Albrecht 
Altdorfer  geb.  1488,  gestorben  1538.”  This  house  wherein  he 
dwelt  and  died,  No.  A 169  Weitolz  Strasse,  is  in  comparison  with 
Diirer’s  house  what  Ratisbon  is  to  Nuremberg — more  homely, 
less  ornamented,  and  not  so  lofty.  And  “ Little  Albrechts ” work 
stands  in  something  of  the  same  relation  to  his  great  namesake’s  : 
nor  can  one  help  concluding,  from  the  magnificence  of  Durer’s 
physical  presence,  that  a like  difference  had  held  in  regard  to  their 
persons.  Yet  as  the  smaller  older  city  with  its  long  bridge  and 
lake  - like  affluence  of  waters  where  Danube  and  Regen  meet, 
possesses  a repose  and  charm  all  its  own,  so  it  is  to  Altdorfer 
we  must  turn  for  a sweetness  of  fancy,  a homely  pathos  and 
romantic  poetry  of  conception,  which  Diirer  himself  fails  to  yield. 

Collector  of  goblets  curiously  chased  or  of  fantastic  forms,  as 
we  know  him  to  have  been,  he  must  be  regarded  as  “a  rich 
man  furnished  with  ability,  living  peaceably  in  his  habitation  ” ; 
industrious  and  of  a consummate  patience  his  work  bespeaks  him  ; 
and  when  we  add  to  this  his  being  fountain-head  of  a numerous 
school  of  artists,  his  having  performed  the  functions  of  Baumeister 
and  Councillor  apparently  to  satisfaction  (“very  busy”  in  1528, 
having  been  officially  appointed  to  compose  quarrels),  and  again 
find  him  studying  Italian  engravings  and  nielli,  or  in  his  will 
asseverating  that,  as  he  had  embraced  the  Reformed  faith,  he  neither 
“ desired  nor  permitted  ” masses  to  be  said  for  his  soul,  but  instead 
bequeathed  for  the  benefit  of  the  needy  poor  in  the  public  almshouse 
a goblet,  “that  one  with  the  little  foreign  head,”  which  had  been  his 
wedding  gift  to  his  wife — when  we  reflect  on  all  this,  shall  we  not 
conclude  him  to  have  been  both  of  a capable  and  magnanimous 
nature  ? While  a further  study  of  his  works  will  bring  us  to 
acknowledge,  I believe,  that  his  was  a spirit  winsome,  delicate, 
and  cordial  beyond  that  of  any  other  artist  of  his  time  or  country. 

All  sunshine  it  would  be  natural  to  picture  that  man’s  life 
who  so  painted,  did  we  not  know  it  to  have  been  passed  in 
troublous  and  cruel  times.  Not  only  threatenings  of  Turkish 
invasion  but  civil  conflicts  were  in  the  air.  Luther,  the  Peasants’ 
War,  the  League,  Calvin, — heavy  muttering  thunderclouds 
beyond  the  horizon  ! He  himself  as  Councillor  signed  a decree 

12 


for  the  expulsion  of  the  Jews,  whose  synagogue  had  been  burned 
by  the  fury  of  a mob,  declaring  that  this  severity  was  regarded 
as  a just  judgment  of  God.  Nor  did  he  scruple  to  take  from 
their  burial-ground  a quantity  of  the  gravestones  for  the  pave- 
ment of  his  house.  Such  times,  indeed,  would  of  necessity  be 
a perilous  snare  even  for  a soul  gifted  with  rare  delicacy  ; however, 
Altdorfer  made  two  etchings  of  this  synagogue  before  its  destruc- 
tion, and  has  introduced  it  as  a background  more  than  once  ; 
which  may  perhaps  indicate  a certain  compunction,  at  least,  for 
the  vandalism  of  the  deed. 

Michael  Ostendorfer,  one  of  the  school,  cut  a large  wood 
block  representing  a temporary  wooden  church,  which  was  erected 
on  the  site  of  the  synagogue,  that  a preliminary  pilgrimage 
might  be  organised  with  a view  to  providing  funds  for  a new 
church  to  the  Beautiful  Mary.  It  shows  us  a large  space  in  front 
of  this  timber  building  : in  the  midst  is  a gaudy  statue  of  the 
Virgin  set  up  on  a pillar,  around  whose  base  seven  or  eight  persons 
of  both  sexes,  whom  one  might  suppose  from  their  attitudes  to 
be  drunk,  are  seen  writhing  as  the  little  candles  stuck  on  nails 
half-way  up  the  pillar  writhe  in  the  sunlight. 

The  porch  behind  is  covered  with  a multitude  of  offerings, 
hanks  of  rope,  ladles,  netting  shuttles,  cauldrons,  sickles,  pitch- 
forks,  hay-rakes,  the  builders  square  and  plummet  line,  baskets, 
jack-boots,  etc.  etc.  : both  inside  and  outside  they  are  hung  all 
about.  A procession  headed  by  huge  cierges  and  a cardinal’s 
hat  on  a pole  encircles  the  whole  building ; those  in  the  procession 
carry  other  offerings  or  else  candles,  two  men  are  naked  save 
for  scanty  hair  shirts.  The  cross  keys  of  Regensburg  wave  over 
it  all,  and  on  the  margin  of  the  copy,  which  is  now  at  Coburg, 
Diirer  has  written  the  following  note  and  signed  it:  “1523  this 
Spectre  contrary  to  Holy  Scripture  has  set  itself  up  at  Regensburg 
and  has  been  dressed  out  by  the  Bishop.  God  help  us  that  we 
should  not  so  dishonour  His  precious  mother  but  (honour  her?) 
in  Christ  Jesus.  Amen.”  Did  Altdorfer  view  this  with  similar 
feelings?  who  can  tell?  It  may  have  been  an  object-lesson  in 
priestcraft  for  him,  and  so  have  helped  to  change  his  convictions. 
As  is  also  the  case  with  Diirer,  his  art  bears  no  witness  to  this 
change,  but  remains  throughout  of  the  old  religion.  We  must  not 
suppose  his  creed  to  have  resembled  that  of  Reformed  Churches 
since.  The  superior  man  of  those  days  shaped  his  own  faith,  and 


it  became  him  as  an  easy  robe,  and  had  nothing  of  the  pinch  of 
an  uniform.  Altdorfer  and  Diirer  no  doubt  continued  to  ejaculate 
prayers  to  the  Virgin  as  they  had  learned  to  do  when  little 
knaves  ; just  as  in  their  work  pictures  of  her  occur  and  reoccur 
quite  naturally.  The  infection  of  hatred  for  the  old  faith,  born 
of  sedition,  raged  first  among  mobs  who  had  been  exploited  by 
the  Church,  and  it  spread  but  slowly  upward,  impeded  by  family 
ties  and  good-breeding,  and  was  only  fixed  there  by  persecutions 
on  both  sides.  People  in  Altdorfers  position  had  not  been  con- 
vinced by  an  antagonist  dogma,  but  freed  politically  and  by  means  of 
Reason,  who  refreshed  them,  and  whose  children  they  were  for  a time 
more  truly,  perhaps,  than  ever  before  or  than  they  have  been  since. 

In  treating  sacred  subjects,  wherever  a homely  pathos  does 
not  carry  him  right  to  the  heart  of  the  incident,  as  in  the  chief 
scenes  of  his  Fall  and  Redemption  of  Man,  he  lets  his  fancy  play 
over  and  about  his  theme,  as  in  the  picture  of  the  birth  of  Mary 
at  Augsburg,  where  Anna  has  been  installed  in  a cathedral, 
and  has  her  bed  set  up  in  the  ambulatory,  circling  round  the 
pillars  of  which  is  a wreath  of  happy  child-angels  all  holding 
hands  and  dancing  in  the  air ; three  women  attend  to  the  needs 
of  the  newly-born  and  her  mother.  Joachim,  who  has  just  been 
out  for  provisions,  returns  in  pilgrim’s  garb  with  a bundle  slung 
from  his  staff  across  one  shoulder.  Renan  has  suggested  that 
in  the  magnificat  we  have  the  first  notes  of  the  music  to  which 
the  great  cathedrals  rose,  a thought  which  may  help  some  to  find 
true  propriety  in  this  flight  of  Altdorfer’s  ; which  is  fanciful,  but 
with  a fancy  that  brings  the  underlying  sentiment  suddenly  to 
the  surface  instead  of  elaborately  cloaking  it.  In  such  a winsome 
guise  perchance  the  old  Hebrew  had  heard  wisdom  proceed  out  of 
the  lips  of  a babe,  when  wise  heads  had  been  in  a brown  study  to 
no  purpose  ; for  the  quaint  and  dreamlike  notion  of  a child  made 
them  all  at  once  aware  of  what  was  natural  and  right.  Such 
legends  indeed  natively  belong  to  the  people  and  should  always 
be  clothed  in  their  racy  folk-fancies. 

But  to  return  to  our  arid  facts  : of  the  Christian  name  of 
Altdorfer’s  wife,  “ Anna,”  we  are  informed  from  a deed  of  purchase 
by  which  he  bought  the  house  in  the  Spiegelgasse  ; she  is  also 
mentioned  in  the  like  document  concerning  his  first  house, 
so  it  has  been  supposed  that  she  may  have  brought  him 
considerable  means. 


14 


In  1526  he  was  elected  to  the  Inner  Council,  and  became  one  of 
the  city  architects.  He  built  the  market  Thurm,  now  vanished, 
but  which  till  recently  held  its  place,  the  youngest  of  a company 
of  brother-towers  that  watch  over  Ratisbon,  the  eldest  dating  from 
the  time  of  the  Romans.  The  Neue  Kirke  is  supposed  to  have 
been  begun  on  his  designs  ; but  probably,  funds  falling  short,  it 
was  modified,  and  can  now  scarcely  be  held  to  represent  his 
intentions.  He  added  two  bastions  and  other  works  to  the  walls 
of  the  town,  but  these  also  have  been  swept  away ; still  standing, 
however,  is  a public  Meat  and  Slaughter  House  which  he  built. 

In  1528  they  wanted  to  make  him  “ Cammerer  ” for  the 
quarter  of  St.  Emmerams.  Altdorfer  made  urgent  entreaty  to  be 
excused,  on  the  ground  that  he  had  undertaken  to  finish  a large 
work  (The  Battle  of  Arbela)  for  Duke  William  of  Bavaria,  and  had 
promised  to  deliver  the  same  in  a short  time.  “ Much  against 
their  wills,”  the  chronicler  Gumpelzhaimer  tells  us,  “they  exempted 
him  from  accepting  the  honourable  position  to  which  they  had 
appointed  him.” 

On  the  27th  of  July  1532  his  wife  died,  and  perhaps  in  order 
to  shun  the  emptiness  of  his  home  he  then  bought  the  house 
in  the  Weitolz  Strasse. 

Mr.  Bell  Scott  has  supposed  that  he  added  to  his  numerous 
avocations  that  of  paper-miller,  because  of  a water-mark  discovered 
in  the  paper  of  one  of  his  prints,  while  other  Ratisbon  prints  are 
on  imported  paper,  but  it  is  only  the  duplication  of  the  letter  A in 
the  mark  that  has  made  him  suppose  it  was  milled  at  Ratisbon 
and  by  Albrecht  Altdorfer. 

In  1534  he  was  made  the  Warden  of  the  Austin  Friary.  In 

1 5 3 7 he  bought  a fourth  house,  outside  the  walls,  with  a large 
garden  and  situated  on  a canal,  to  serve  as  a summer  retreat.  In 

1538  he  made  his  will;  his  principal  heirs  were  Erhard  and 
two  sisters,  Magdalena  and  Aurelia,  both  married.  Beside  his 
collection  of  silver  goblets,  the  inventory  mentions  nineteen  books, 
some  pictures,  rings,  weapons,  chests,  scales,  coins,  twenty  Eimer 
of  Bavarian  wine,  and  a horse  with  trappings. 

There  are  two  portraits  : one  asserts  that  it  presents  him  to 
our  eyes,  and  it  is  open  to  us  to  suppose  that  the  other  may  do  so. 
The  first,  a small  engraving,  at  least  a century  later  in  date,  not 
only  bears  his  name  beneath,  but  copies  his  signature  on  the  back- 
ground ; however,  the  style  of  dress  and  cut  of  beard  and  hair  give 

i5 


it  the  lie  by  upwards  of  fifty  years.  There  may  have  been  none 
the  less  some  miniature  or  drawing  after  which  it  was  made,  by  an 
engraver  whose  hand  was  freer  in  dealing  with  history  than  with 
his  burin.  Impressions  may  be  seen  in  the  Print  Room  at  Paris 
and  in  the  Libraries  at  Munich  and  Vienna. 

The  second  represents  quite  a different  individual  in  authentic 
costume,  and  is  either  the  work  of  the  painter  himself  or  done  in 
his  workshop.  Here  certainty  ends  ; for  this  goodly  burgher  of 
rather  a Jewish  cast  of  features  heads  a procession  invented,  by 
way  of  adulation,  for  Maximilian,  which  is  painted  on  about  four 
hundred  strips  of  parchment  from  two  feet  to  a yard  in  length  and 
about  a foot  in  breadth  ; of  these,  one  hundred  and  eighty-eight 
are  in  the  Imperial  Library  at  Vienna,  the  rest  are  lost.  The 
derivation  of  this  labour  of  loyalty  from  Altdorfers  workshop, 
which  has  been  made  by  Dr.  Dornhoffer,  and  the  attribution  of 
considerable  portions  to  the  very  hand  of  that  artist,  cannot  be 
doubted.  Many  of  the  pictures  carried  on  poles  and  representing 
victories  which  never  occurred,  mingle  motives  of  landscape  and 
seascape  with  the  countless  spears  of  plumed  and  gilded  chivalry 
in  the  same  spirit  and  prodigality  as  The  Battle  of  Arbela,  and 
being  less  laboured  as  a rule,  yield  a better  insight  into  the 
Turneresque  audacity  and  deftness  of  handling  which  such 
subjects  could  call  forth  from  the  enthusiasm  of  our  artist.  But 
that  we  have  here  a portrait  of  Altdorfer  is  too  doubtful  a supposi- 
tion to  draw  from  this,  and  the  fact  that  the  function  of  the  worthy 
and  his  companion  at  the  head  of  the  procession  remains 
unexplained,  unless  we  explain  it  by  supposing  them  severally  to 
be  the  artist  and  the  author  of  the  verbal  description  which  also 
still  exists. 

This  procession,  unfinished  and  so  probably  never  presented,  is 
the  chief  evidence  that  remains  of  Altdorfer’s  dealings  with  the 
Court  and  Emperor.  There  are,  besides,  the  marginal  drawings 
in  pink,  violet,  or  green  ink  on  ten  out  of  thirty-five  leaves  of  the 
Emperor’s  Prayer-Book  now  at  Besangon  ; the  major  portion  of  the 
book,  on  which  Durer  and  Cranach  worked  is  in  the  Library  at 
Munich  ; but,  with  the  exception  of  a few  missing  leaves,  the  rest  is 
at  Besangon,  and  contains,  besides  those  by  Altdorfer,  margins  by 
Baldung  Grim,  Hans  Durer,  and  Jorg  Breu  of  Augsburg.  For 
his  commerce  with  the  highest  dignitary  of  art  there  is  only 
Heller’s  statement,  that  at  Nuremberg,  the  print-dealer  Frauenholz’s 

16 


collection,  in  1822,  contained  a red  chalk  drawing  of  an  old  man 
by  Albrecht  Diirer,  bearing  an  inscription  stating  that  it  was  pre- 
sented by  him  to  Altdorfer  at  Ratisbon  in  1509.  He  has  copied 
the  lion  out  of  Diirer’s  St.  Jerome  into  one  of  his  margins  for  the 
Prayer-Book.  Other  motives  are  taken  from  Burgkmairand  Hans 
Diirer.  It  has  been  suggested,  also,  that  a panel  described  by  the 
inventory  as  painted  by  Albrecht  Ihrer  should  be  read  Diirer. 
Of  course  legend  and  tradition  have  had  their  way,  and  Diirer 
has  been  honoured  with  the  pupil  who  best  could  honour  him, 
yet  though  a small  copy  of  a plate  by  Diirer,  B.  24,  is  ascribed 
to  Altdorfer,  their  having  been  namesakes  is  the  better  basis  for 
the  rumour. 

In  1538  he  not  only  made  his  will  but  finished  a picture  of 
Christ  taking  leave  of  His  mother.  This  work  is  now  lost ; indeed, 
of  twenty-five  pictures  said  to  have  been  in  his  native  city  in  1819, 
only  one  of  doubtful  authenticity  now  remains.  That  this  subject, 
which  is  also  that  of  one  of  the  happiest  woodcuts  in  The  Fall 
and  Redemption  of  Man,  should  have  been  the  last  he  treated, 
may  please  those  who  hunger  for  symbolical  significance  in  the 
events  that  perplex  us.  Altdorfer  could  have  been  but  little  more 
than  fifty,  and  still  enjoyed  unimpaired  powers. 

On  the  1 2th  or  14th  of  February  he  died,  and  was  laid  beside 
his  wife  in  the  Augustinian  Church,  which  now  serves  as  lumber- 
shed  to  a barracks.  Most  of  the  inscribed  flagstones  have  been 
removed,  but  a few  are  leant  against  the  south  wall.  A piece  of 
one  was  discovered  when  the  church  was  dismantled,  bearing  the 
words  Albrecht  Altdorffer  Paum.  . . . Soldiers  tramp  through  to 
their  parade-ground  on  which  the  chancel  gives,  or  a bevy  of 
noisy  children  wake  up  the  echoes  of  the  vaulted  roof  and  enliven 
dusty  gloom,  on  which  tall  dirty  windows  look  down,  many  of  them 
broken  and  in  part  boarded  up.  A desolate,  desecrated  place ! 

Almost  as  vacant  as  this  shell  of  a church  are  the  records  of 
that  man’s  life  before  whose  felicitous  picture  of  Alexander  the 
Great  the  great  Napoleon  may  on  many  a morning  have  stood 
refreshed  from  his  bath,  naked  as  Achilles,  and  mused  unconscious 
in  a return  of  boyish  reverie,  smiling  at  beauty,  valour,  and 
magnificence  because  they  pleased  him,  quit  of  the  cost  and  care 
as  his  olive  Corsican  limbs  were  quit  of  the  stiff  and  gaudy 
uniform — healthy  and  at  ease. 


TRADITION 


Art  historians  are  in  the  habit  of  speaking  of  ‘‘tradition.”  What 
is  meant  by  this  word  when  used  in  reference  to  the  history  of 
art  ? I think  that  to  answer  this  question  will  help  to  an  under- 
standing of  Altdorfer’s  relation  to  the  art  of  Germany  and  the 
world. 

At  the  outset  art  and  craft  are  one  and  the  same  thing.  The 
work  is  so  difficult  to  do,  that  nobody  dreams  but  what  it  is  to  be 
done  as  well  as  possible.  Genius  has  been  described  as  the 
capacity  for  taking  pains  ; not  a complete  description,  but  true  as 
far  as  it  goes,  and  in  early  epochs  it  thus,  most  probably,  revealed 
itself.  The  man  that  had  imagined  the  thing  to  be  done  in  its 
perfection,  so  vividly  that  he  loved,  ensued  it,  and  forgot  it  never ; 
to  him  improvised  tools  and  obdurate  substances  yielded  at 
last  all  they  could  possibly  yield.  There  stood  shield,  helmet, 
bowl,  or  flagon  such  as  had  never  been  seen  before.  How  had 
he  done  it  ? Did  he  not  smile  as  Dlirer  once  smiled,  presenting 
to  an  admirer  that  ordinary  camel-hair  brush  with  which  had  been 
painted  such  wonderful  hair?  Yes  ; but  could  he  feel  surely  able 
to  do  it  again  ? He  must  try  : tremblingly  he  did  try,  and  at  last 
knew  how  to  do  it  by  heart. 

The  boy  that  watched,  breathed  hard  at  his  elbow,  and  stayed 
away  from  play  ; with  what  pains  he  would  teach  him  if  only  he 
might  teach  him  all  before  death  came ! 

Doubtless  even  these  first  love-chosen  apprentices  would  not 
learn  all ; something  was  lost,  something  that  gave  a stamp  to 
the  work,  made  it  in  a dim  way  different,  personal,  old-fashioned. 
Yet  the  ’prentices  did  advance;  if  not  the  first,  his  successor: 
though  always  the  man  who  made  the  stride  left  something 
impressed  on  his  work  which  was  not  carried  on,  but  its  place  was 

18 


now  left  blank,  now  taken  up  by  a new  character,  according  as  his 
prentice  was  craftsman  or  artist.  Still,  the  main  achievement  was 
not  lost,  for  both  alike  learned  the  method  by  rote,  treasured 
their  masters  tools,  made  others  as  like  them  as  they  could,  or 
furtively  tried  to  improve  on  them. 

The  effort  and  attention  necessary  that  one  may  conform  to 
a not  fully  grasped  method  of  employing  difficult  substances  results 
in  an  economy  of  energy  which  can  spare  little  or  nothing  for 
the  realisation  of  caprices,  and  which,  like  duty  become  habit, 
does  not  “feel  the  weight  of  chance  desires.”  Yet  it  would  be 
a mistake  to  suppose  that  art  traditions  work  directly  to  the 
discovery  of  beauty.  They  do  not.  In  proportion  to  the  authority 
they  have  acquired,  they  test  the  strength  of  conviction  behind 
every  departure  from  routine,  but  every  advance  is  such  a departure. 
At  the  same  time  traditions  imply  qualities  of  orderliness,  clean- 
liness, definite  purpose,  and  the  absence  of  waste,  which  all  enhance 
the  presence  and  splendour  of  beauty  and  help  to  make  it  effective. 
Yet  beauty,  in  art,  is  always  the  discovery  or  creation  of  an  artist — 
an  artist  whose  integrity,  however,  has  only  tradition  for  defence 
against  the  promptings  to  innovation  that  are  born  of  caprice ; 
though  he  may  at  times  be  rendered  by  the  same  tradition,  in  this 
case  a hindrance,  unresponsive  to  such  promptings  when  quickened 
by  the  contemplation  of  beauty  and  free  from  mere  wilfulness. 

In  early  periods  art  is  commissioned,  responds  to  an  exterior 
demand ; therefore  the  craftsman  can  have  no  advantage  over  the 
artist,  but  must  remain  always  obviously  his  inferior.  And  yet  well- 
nigh  from  the  commencement  the  penury  of  half-developed  souls 
must  have  created  a demand  for  the  makeshift — for  a class  of 
articles  designed  to  no  more  than  barely  serve  their  purpose.  This 
canker  would  grow  up,  the  offspring  of  the  spiritually  poor  who 
were  not  poor  in  spirit  — of  the  man  who  did  inferior  work 
unabashed,  and  of  the  man  who  pretended,  and  hoped  to  buy  oft' 
the  future. 

Bad  art  as  distinguished  from  merely  inefficient  art  is  the 
result  of  a tacit  compact  between  the  artist  and  his  public,  a 
compact  degrading  to  both.  In  the  same  way  good  art  presumes 
on  the  existence  of  a demand  for  what  is  noble  and  faultless  in 
elevated  souls.  But  the  opposition  of  these  two  spirits  of  work 
can  never  become  acute  while  the  tradition  is  still  binding. 

When  tools  have  been  rendered  efficient  and  the  shortest 

19 


and  best  method  of  subjugating  the  obdurate  materials  has  been 
so  firmly  grasped  as  to  be  an  item  not  difficult  for  the  born  artist 
to  learn  ; exhilarated  by  the  ease  of  his  power,  this  last  triumphs, 
revels,  uses  his  skill  as  a poet  uses  language,  breaks  down  all  the 
old  restrictions,  attempts  the  impossible  well-nigh  with  success  : so 
easy  is  it  for  this  Homer  who  really  begins  where  his  forerunner 
left  off;  for  this  Titian  who,  still  a youth,  surpasses  his  aged  and 
laborious  master.  Besides  the  inheritance  of  an  almost  perfected 
practice,  he  lives  in  an  age  that  has  woken  up  and  come  out  of 
doors,  nay,  has  travelled  farther  than  men  had  heretofore ; every 
young  man  about  him  has  received,  in  good  time,  more  or  less  of 
an  effective  secret  from  his  father  or  his  father’s  friend.  Things 
no  one  had  dreamed  of  appear  all  at  a rush  within  reach.  The 
epoch  expects  Shakespeare,  and  is  not  surprised  at  his  success. 

In  Greece  and  in  the  Italy  of  the  Renaissance  many  isolated 
traditions  arrived  at  ripeness  all  in  a heat.  Changed  conditions 
enable  them  to  communicate  with  a fulness  and  ease  till  then  out 
of  the  question,  and  what  do  we  see — the  work  of  Phidias,  the  work 
of  Titian  ! This  new  lord  of  the  air  has  not  added  to  the  trade 
secrets  ; he  has  been  too  much  in  advance  to  teach,  too  occupied 
with  discovery  and  with  novelty.  He  has  done  what  only  he 
could  do — what  only  such  as  he  are  right  to  attempt ; he  has  very 
likely  done  more  than  can  be  done  soundly — more  than  even  he 
was  right  to  attempt.  Who  is  to  judge  him  ? who  is  to  follow? 
such  another  man  will  not  occur  for  generations ! All  is  at  sixes 
and  sevens  ! The  tradition  is  lost ! 

Here  comes  a gifted  man  having  half  learned  a method  gleaned 
between  whiles  in  his  haste  to  produce — gleaned  from  pupils  of 
that  great  master  who  were  chosen  not  because  they  could,  but 
because  they  would,  and  paid — gleaned  hypothetically  from  those 
glorious,  intoxicating  masterpieces  themselves.  Such  an  one 
makes  his  pictures  speak,  they  are  poems  ; but  not  with  the 
grand  assurance  and  serenity  of  him  who  had  inherited  the 
tradition.  Anon  there  comes  a conscientious,  diligent  man  who 
well-nigh  refinds  the  tradition  with  a lifetime  of  pains,  but  who 
has  nothing  to  say  and  no  one  to  say  it  to,  that  can  for  a moment 
be  compared  to  the  subject-matter  and  audience  of  the  grand 
master,  who  lived  in  that  stirring,  not  this  somnolent  age. 

So  art  becomes  the  affair  of  the  unsupported,  isolated  individual 
who  speaks  to  a sect,  a clique  ; or  if,  by  reason  of  strength,  to  the 

20 


world,  speaks  in  a half-learned  language,  on  subjects  of  which  the 
real  nature  has  been  disguised  by  inferior  attempts  and  received 
ideas,  as  Goethe  complained  he  had  to  : till,  alas ! he  must  correct 
and  withstand  as  well  as  create. 

Then  tradition  is  that  which  keeps  in  mind  the  best  and 
most  direct  method  of  employing  the  means  at  hand.  The  means, 
the  materials,  the  men,  vary  with  the  conditions  ; but  a best  and 
most  direct  method  there  must  always  be,  either  known  or  to  be 
found.  This  best  way,  when  it  has  been  laboriously  found  by 
experience,  is  endangered  and  lost  by  new  aims,  not  native  to  the 
conditions,  being  entertained,  and  by  such  special  endowments 
being  relied  on,  through  the  example  of  some  exceptional  man, 
that  they  cannot  recur  with  sufficient  frequency  to  prevent  a 
practice  based  on  the  presumption  of  their  presence  from  falling 
into  decay  and  oblivion. 

Where  then  is  Altdorfer’s  place  in  regard  to  this  sequence  ? 
was  he  born  in  the  spring,  summer,  autmn,  or  winter  of  an  art 
tradition  ? Germany  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century  presented 
a closer  analogy  than  it  had  ever  done  before,  or  has  done  since, 
to  the  grand  art  periods  of  Greece  and  Italy.  Many  traditions 
were  approaching  ripeness  in  different  centres.  Altdorfer  is  the 
great  artist  of  one  of  these.  At  Ratisbon  none  before  him,  none 
after  him,  can  be  called  his  rivals.  Yet  he  did  not  break  down 
the  tradition  by  the  force  of  a stupendous  personality,  he  was  not 
a Michael  Angelo.  No,  he  appears,  like  a happy  child  that  has 
climbed  a rock,  smiling  with  success  yet  trembling ; for  a moment 
he  yearns  towards  display,  but  not  as  Durer  did,  to  yield  : though 
he  grew  sufficiently  at  ease,  he  remained  too  modest,  and  died,  it 
seems,  unspoiled. 


2 


GERMAN  TRADITION 


Every  art  tradition  has  been  nursed  by  the  traditions  of  some 
race,  traditions  whose  effectiveness  consists  in  that  they  foster 
its  characteristic  virtues. 

In  modern  times  the  atmosphere  maintained  by  racial  traditions 
has  become,  as  a rule,  almost  entirely  engrossed  by  the  mere 
machinery  of  society.  The  lungs  that  are  wholly  given  only  to 
sustain  the  actual  state  of  things  have  become  altogether  too 
numerous.  The  world  of  men  was  never  before  upheld  at  such  a 
vast  expense  of  energy — never  before  has  mere  existence  been  so 
guarded,  so  respected  and  cherished  by  mankind.  Not  the  fulness 
of  life  but  the  bare  fact  of  it  is  regarded  with  a well-nigh  super- 
stitious reverence.  That  noble  point  of  view,  which  estimates 
life  as  worth  little  in  comparison  with  the  virtues  it  may  be 
expended  on,  is  always  being  overshadowed  not  only  by  the 
greed  of  the  materialist  but  by  the  fondness  of  socialism  and 
philanthropy. 

While  no  one  asks  for  beauty  none  will  be  found,  but  to  those 
who  knock  with  importunity,  the  gate  of  her  garden  never  remains 
fast  closed.  Effort  should  be  led  aside  from  the  mere  mill-work  of 
material  production  and  directed  towards  the  true  goal  of  humanity, 
virtue,  and  beauty.  It  is  because  the  traditions  of  life  in  early 
ages  did  this  that  there  then  were  living  art  traditions  and  not 
merely  isolated  artists. 

Among  those  who  desire  aesthetic  advance,  the  arch  enemy 
of  progress  is  the  pretension  that  Beauty  has  been  found  in 
this  or  that  popular  resort,  where  people  plume  themselves 
on  being  her  friends,  or  her  guests,  who  have  never  even 
dreamed  of  air  so  bracing  as  is  that  which  she  must  breathe 
or  languish. 


Great  need  then  is  ours  to  plunge  back  into  the  past,  and 
refresh  ourselves  with  contemplation  of  conditions  that  allowed 
art  a national  or  at  least  urban  importance. 

At  Ratisbon,  against  the  north-east  corner  of  the  north  transept 
of  the  old  church,  stands  the  famous  Esel  Tower,  which  is  no 
staircase,  but  wherein  a road  winds  slowly  to  the  level  of  the 
roof;  such  was  the  characteristic  expedient  of  the  early  builders 
for  getting  their  material  up  to  the  desired  height  — very 
circuitous,  very  ponderous,  but  very  sure!  It  was  a multitude 
of  asses  that  did  this  work  ; almost  in  the  dark,  in  loose,  damp 
earth,  their  trains  trudged  painfully  up  or  trotted  and  stumbled 
down — a symbol,  we  may  please  ourselves  with  fancying,  of  that 
old  German  empire  which,  though  apparently  the  most  incoherent 
of  feudal  systems,  yet  got  to  the  top  in  the  days  of  Maximilian, 
when  it  enacted  a law  which  has  proved  to  be  the  basis  of  the  law 
of  nations,  and  moulds  the  world  to-day,  and  which  then  enabled 
it  to  become  the  last  European  empire  save  that  short  summer 
of  Napoleon’s  glory. 

It  was  not  the  nobles  or  the  Church  which  effected  this,  it  was 
the  cities,  and  they  did  it  in  spite  of  the  nobles  and  the  Church,  as 
they  also  effected  their  more  boasted  Reformation. 

“ From  the  time  that  Henry  the  Fifth  admitted  their  artisans  to 
the  privileges  of  free  burghers,  they  became  more  and  more 
prosperous  ; while  the  steadiness  and  frugality  of  the  German 
character  compensated  for  some  disadvantages  arising  out  of  their 
inland  situation.”  So  says  Hallam  : and  let  us  realise  what  it 
meant  to  be  lost  in  the  central  laps  of  a mighty  land.  Our 
English  stock,  as  islanders,  have  become  the  men  of  accident,  of  a 
crisis.  We  depend  on  chance,  and  no  other  race  is  perhaps  so  to 
be  relied  on  to  take  advantage  of  the  turn  of  the  tide,  or  of  flotsam, 
jetsam,  and  lag  end  after  a storm.  We  boast  that  we  are  lords  of 
the  sea,  but  we  have  rather  been  its  scholars,  and  as  such  almost 
bound  to  neglect  any  elaborate  foresight,  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
to  be  ready  for  emergency.  Our  representative  men  have  hung 
on  happy  moments  ; they  have  not,  in  general,  laboriously  learned 
to  achieve,  but  been  equipped  with  ability  to  make  the  most  of 
what  turned  up. 

“We  know  how  long  the  outlaws  of  Sherwood  lived  in 
tradition  — men  who,  like  some  of  their  betters,  have  been 

23 


permitted  to  redeem  by  a few  acts  of  generosity  the  just 
ignominy  of  extensive  crimes.  These,  indeed,  were  the  heroes 
of  vulgar  applause;  but  when  such  a judge  as  Sir  John 
Fortescue  could  exult  that  more  Englishmen  were  hanged  for 
robbery  in  one  year  than  French  in  seven,  and  that  ‘if  an 
Englishman  be  poor,  and  see  another  having  riches  which 
may  be  taken  from  him  by  might,  he  will  not  spare  to  do  so,’ 
it  may  be  perceived  how  thoroughly  these  sentiments  had  per- 
vaded the  public  mind.” 

It  should  perchance  nettle  us,  when  we  notice  how  this  view  of 
what  were  our  leading  sentiments  in  1463  agrees  with  that  current 
on  the  Continent  of  what  they  still  are  as  a nation  if  no  longer  as 
individuals.  Not  only  the  foreign  journals  but  calmer  judges 
contrast  our  philanthropy,  always  most  to  the  fore  where  least 
called  for  and  farthest  from  home,  with  our  commercial  close- 
fistedness  and  imperial  greed.  However,  the  words  quoted  above 
are  the  mature  sentence  of  an  unimpeachable  English  gentleman, 
a severer  judge  than  Sir  John  Fortescue,  but  one  who,  we  may 
hope,  is  also  representative  of  something  extant  in  the  national 
character. 

A faith  in  the  ordeal  of  strength,  distrust  of  elaborate 
precaution,  the  union  of  a lion-like  indolence  with  a rapidly 
calculated  and  successful  daring,  are  just  the  characters  to  look  for 
in  men  who  have  indeed  had  the  winds  and  waves,  with  their  long 
sleeps  and  reckless  violence,  for  nursing  mothers  and  nursing 
fathers. 

Our  art  astonishes,  by  the  suddenness  of  its  developments  and 
the  desultoriness  and  lack  of  method  with  which  it  has  been  in 
general  pursued.  We  have  had  our  Elizabethan  drama,  and  minor 
burst  of  foison,  but  what  we  have  had  always  with  us  is  singularly 
aimless  and  somnolent. 

But  to  an  inland  continental  people  nothing  comes  ; what  they 
want,  they  must  go  and  fetch.  They  cannot  indolently  ride  across 
the  waves  ; and  if  they  may,  at  times,  glide  down  some  majestic 
river,  all  the  labour  of  tow-path  and  lock  must  be  resorted  to  in 
order  to  reascend,  not  to  mention  mail  and  blackmail  by  the  way. 
It  is  such  things  that  form  the  temper  of  a race  ; that  school 
foresight,  industry,  and  application. 

The  constitution  of  the  imperial  cities  or  those  of  the  Hanseatic 
League  is  evolved  as  by  the  science  of  bees.  It  is  the  workers 

24 


who  really  govern ; and  they  have  constantly  to  kill  off  the 
drones  and  repair  loss  from  foreign  pillage ; but,  with  a mar- 
vellous fidelity  to  instinct,  they  succeed.  There  is  not  the 
invigorating  response  to  inspiring  ideas  that  makes  the  glory  of 
French  history;  there  is  not  the  adventurous  assumption  of 
responsibility,  and  reliance  on  the  gifts  of  nature  and  fortune,  that 
distinguishes  English  achievements  : they  seem  to  coagulate ; 
and  if  their  work  is  broken  up  or  falls  in,  they  begin  again  with 
a wonderful  patience,  but  apparently  born  more  of  instinct  than 
of  hope.  They  conceive  perfection,  it  would  seem,  first  as  sound 
units;  the  harmony  of  the  whole  can  wait;  and  this  conception 
belongs  to  the  unit,  and  preserves  the  whole  from  corruption 
and  overweening,  however  incoherent  it  remain.  Their  history 
has  the  pathos  of  those  long  trains  of  asses  winding  up  and 
down  that  dark  tower,  with  its  infrequent  windows  and  its  too 
short  rests  at  the  top,  where  one  is  overtired  for  enjoyment  of  the 
prospect. 

But  let  us  return  to  our  historian.  “ Spire,  Nuremberg,  Ratisbon, 
and  Augsburg  were  not,  indeed,  like  the  rich  markets  of  London 
and  Bruges,  nor  could  their  burghers  rival  the  princely  merchants 
of  Italy  ; but  they  enjoyed  the  blessings  of  competence  diffused 
over  a large  class  of  industrious  freemen,  and  in  the  fifteenth 
century  one  of  the  politest  of  Italians  could  extol  their  splendid 
and  well-furnished  dwellings,  their  rich  apparel,  their  easy  affluent 
mode  of  living,  the  security  of  their  rights  and  just  equality  of  their 
laws.”  And  we  learn  from  a footnote  that  this  polite  Italian  was 
ALnias  Sylvius,  who  in  his  treatise — De  Moribus  Germanoriim — 
declared  that  the  kings  of  Scotland  would  rejoice  to  be  so  well 
lodged  as  the  second  - class  citizens  at  N uremberg.  Better 
furnished ! the  Museums  of  Munich  and  Nuremberg  attest  it. 
“ Skipton  Castle,  the  great  honour  of  the  Earls  of  Cumberland, 
and  among  the  most  splendid  mansions  of  the  north,”  had  only 
seven  or  eight  beds  in  1572  ; no  chairs,  looking-glasses,  or  carpets  : 
but  Altdorfer  thirty  years  earlier  had  all  he  needed  of  these  and  a 
house  in  the  country  to  boot. 

The  houses  of  Nuremberg  and  Ratisbon  tell  their  own  tale. 
The  richer  their  inhabitants  the  taller  they  grew,  and  many  seem 
even  to  have  swollen  in  their  upper  storeys.  Under  the  immense 
sloping  roof  was  the  storeroom  or  warehouse,  in  the  chambers 
beneath  lived  the  family,  the  counting-houses  and  workshops  came 

25 


next,  and  last  the  retail  shop,  coach-house,  or  stable,  giving  on  to 
the  street.  Immediately  beneath  the  gable  protrudes  a crane, 
often  a fixture,  with  its  own  little  pent-house  reaching  on  struts 
half  across  the  street,  to  protect  the  pulley  wheel,  over  which 
there  still  hangs,  in  many  cases,  rope’s  end  and  iron  hook.  The 
whole  front  of  a flour  or  forage  merchant’s  would  be  whitened  or 
bearded  by  the  constant  hoisting  and  lowering  of  sacks  or  trusses. 
On  a street  disturbance  the  upper  storeys  could  be  shut  off  from 
the  more  public  offices  below,  and  safest  of  all  would  be  the  hoard 
under  the  tall  roof. 

A small  wooden  skeleton  model  of  such  a house  may  very 
possibly  have  been  constructed  by  Altdorfer  on  his  way  to  become 
architect ; all  who  were  registered  master  builders  had  first  to 
submit  such  a model  to  the  Guild,  and  a collection  of  them  is  still 
on  view  in  the  Rath-house,  though  it  includes  none  attributed  to 
him. 

It  was  this  burgher  affluence  that  commissioned  and  inspired 
the  art  which,  at  Ratisbon,  culminates  in  the  work  of  the  “ Little 
Albrecht,”  as  the  French  have  styled  him  by  contrast  with  the 
great  Diirer.  Every  such  local  German  school  in  truth  resembled 
a caddis-worm,  building  its  house,  choosing  the  little  bright  stones 
in  the  sand,  or  catching  a stray  shred  of  silk  or  wool  borne  past 
by  the  stream.  So  we  may  picture  it  to  have  worked — very 
industrious,  very  homely,  very  snug — always  in  the  main  bent  on 
shielding  its  too  soft  body,  but  often  chuckling  to  think  how  fine, 
how  enviable  a house  it  had  made.  And  then  follows  the  pathos 
of  the  result.  A May-fly,  that  lives  but  a day,  falls  and  is  no  more. 
A few  works  of  the  great  lonely  Diirer  tower  up  toward  the  sun 
as  on  dragon  wings,  and  Holbein  seems  to  pause  and  sail  in  the 
warmth  and  light;  there  is,  beside,  the  happy  shimmering  innocence 
of  Altdorfer,  and  the  gnat-like  dance  of  a lewd  and  elegant 
Cranach,  but  that  is  all.  Thus,  too,  it  fared  with  German  poetry,  a 
great  lonely  Goethe,  a Schiller,  a Heine,  and  a crowd  of  May-flies. 
The  integrity  of  the  race  endures,  and  still  lends  aspirants  the 
fostering  strength  of  its  virtues,  prudence,  industry,  and  application  ; 
but  fortune  has  been  blind  to  their  great  deserving  ; the  graces  that 
are  taught  by  success,  the  felicities  of  genius,  of  these  they  have 
been  stinted  indeed.  Yet  are  they  not  on  the  eve  of  acquiring 
them  ? Their  newly-won  coherence  is  becoming  stable  ; and  if 
the  contagion  of  foreign  ideals,  which  they  can  never  make  their 

2 6 


own,  is  stayed,  if  they  trust  in  their  own  vision,  and  believe  that 
beauty,  not  force  nor  knowledge,  still  less  display  or  the  desire  to 
astonish,  is  the  proper  aim  of  art,  what  artists  may  they  not  make ! 
Then  will  they  seek  Altdorfer  and  learn  of  his  happy  spirit  to 
abandon  theory  and  follow  loveliness. 


27 


ALTDORFER’S  ART 

What  objects  served  as  models  for  this  art?  Architecture, 
gardens,  bonny  children,  fine  clothes  and  goldsmiths’  work — as 
in  Italy,  as  in  Flanders,  so  in  Germany,  these  were  the  chief 
plastic  motives  of  the  painting  that  culminated  in  the  glories  of 
the  Renaissance.  Landscape  and  the  life  of  country  folk  were 
added  as  proficiency  was  approached.  Religion  furnished  the 
subject-matter,  classical  mythology  supplying  her  part  as  time 
went  on. 

Architecture — the  splendid  apogee  of  this  was  over  before 
those  conditions  obtained  which  created  the  art  of  which  we 
speak  ; at  least  this  was  so  north  of  the  Alps,  where,  already 
softened  by  time,  and  shut  back  into  an  age  of  gold  by  newer,  less 
successful,  buildings,  the  Gothic  masterpieces  remained  the  most 
appropriate  of  backgrounds  for  every  really  graceful  or  elevated 
imagination.  Gothic  had  a tendency  always  to  run  up  into  an 
ecstasy  of  aspiration,  becoming  unreal  and  over  slender,  over 
rich,  in  the  degeneracy  with  which  it  everywhere  sickened  when 
once  the  axe  had  been  laid  to  the  root  by  the  English  wars  in 
France. 

On  German  soil  a pure  and  sound  Gothic  had  never  existed ; 
but  for  this  reason  the  separation  between  the  best  and  what 
followed  is  less  marked.  Altdorfer  was  an  architect,  and  a 
fondness  for  the  backgrounds  which  architecture  supplied  is 
characteristic  of  him  ; while  the  German  tendency  to  over-dream 
in  architecture,  which  had  existed  even  in  the  eleventh,  twelfth,  and 
thirteenth  centuries,  is  peculiarly  his.  Gothic  melts  with  him  into 
newer  styles,  and  these  again  into  styles  that  are  pure  fantasies. 
He  plays  with  it.  Van  Eyck  feels  the  authority  of  aisles  and 

2 8 


choirs,  even  though  he  knew  them  only  in  overwrought  Flemish 
examples.  Diirer  reports  gravely  what  he  saw,  and  has  no  fond- 
ness for  the  pointed,  but  rather  is  haunted  by  the  round  arches  and 
less  imaginative  if  more  reasoned  architecture  he  had  seen  in  Italy. 
Holbein  is  only  at  home  in  Renaissance  buildings.  Altdorfer, 
who  lived  close  to  one  of  the  purest  of  German  churches,  loves  it ; 
but  as  an  amateur  who  brings  some  foreign  vase  into  his  own  world, 
setting  it  beside  other  treasures,  half  puzzled,  half  amused  by  the 
contrasts  or  affinities  revealed. 

Gardens  are  no  more  for  him  the  prim  plots  and  walks  of  the 
early  painters : he  loves  that  the  wilderness  be  admitted,  and 
encircles  with  weeds  the  highly-groomed  flowers  of  horticulture, 
and  makes  the  elegant  exotic  rear  its  head  from  among  the 
grasses  of  the  fields. 

Children  are  treasure-trove,  and  more  often  than  not  have 
cherub  wings  in  the  works  of  this  apparently  childless  husband  ; 
they  are  happy  and  busy,  not  merely  quaint,  stolid,  or  occupied,  like 
those  of  Diirer.  Angels  had  always  been  less  solemn  north  of  the 
Alps,  more  fairy-like,  or  even  good-humouredly  impish  ; popular 
imagination  had  given  them  first  rainbow-hued  wings,  then  every 
kind  of  elaborate  musical  instrument,  and  at  last,  loving  to  consider 
them  as  ministers,  it  represents  them  performing  offices  which 
would  have  been  below  the  dignity  of  Italian  angels ; as  in 
Diirers  early  picture  at  Dresden,  where  the  cherubs  sweep  the 
floor  and  water  it,  and  show  themselves  the  most  willing  little 
menials.  Since  grown-up  people,  or  even  grown  girls,  are  less 
likely  to  do  such  things  gracefully,  with  a spontaneous  freedom 
from  every  hint  of  the  mere  performance  of  duty,  it  is  an  exquisite 
justness  that  lights  in  the  end  on  little  children,  for  whom  the 
whole  business  is  really  play.  And  this  tendency  perhaps  finds  in 
Altdorfer  its  most  adequate  expression.  There  is  a ladder  in  the 
Nativity  at  Bremen  up  which  and  along  a rafter  the  little  winged 
knaves  bustle  to  fetch  hay  and  straw  to  make  a bed  for  the  Child 
and  its  Mother.  One  has  just  fallen  off,  and  lies,  his  useless  wings 
beneath  him,  on  top  of  a bundle  of  straw,  while  another  runs  to 
his  aid  with  the  most  comical  expression  of  grieved  concern.  The 
resourceful  invention  of  Sandro  Botticelli  has  shown  us  baby  fauns 
and  sylvans  playing  with  the  armour  of  sleeping  Mars,  but  in  the 

29 


Museum  of  Nuremberg  is  a statuette  cast  in  iron  of  a mailed 
cherub  which  makes  “arms  ridiculous  ” in  quite  a new  sense,  with 
an  eloquence  almost  as  winsome  and  irresistible  as  that  “ Consider 
the  lilies  of  the  field,”  which  smiled  worldliness  out  of  countenance 
fifteen  hundred  years  before.  And  it  is  this  naivetd  of  practical 
wisdom,  so  different  from  the  grave  Florentines  most  playful 
conceit,  which  distinguishes  German  humour  when  it  is  felicitous, 
such  as  that  in  which  Altdorfer  delighted,  and  such  as  Wagner 
has  rediscovered  with  the  childlike  gaiety  of  his  wise  Hans 
Sachs. 

Fine  clothes  and  goldsmiths’  work — in  treating  these,  he  is  in 
the  same  way  more  at  home  than  even  artists  like  Van  Eyck  and 
Diirer,  more  Venetian  one  might  say,  assorting  the  wardrobes  of 
queens  and  shepherdesses,  of  beggars  and  princes,  and  with  an 
invention  worthy  of  Hans  Andersen  summing  up  the  sense  of  this 
contrast  so  often  productive  of  beauty,  by  representing  Poverty  as 
a beggar  family  swept  along  on  the  trains  of  a noble  lord  and 
dame  as  on  a magic  carpet,  to  the  contentment  apparently  both  of 
those  who  draw  and  those  who  are  drawn. 

If  he  dwells  delightedly  on  gay  brocades  and  feathered  hats,  it 
is  still  more  because  of  the  confident,  hopeful  air  of  such  things,  or 
because  his  dexterity  with  camel  - hair  and  sable  brushes  made 
them  such  refreshing  exercises,  than  because  he  was  a rich  man 
with  probably  some  superstition  in  regard  to  expense. 

His  landscapes  nearly  always  convey  the  luminous  freshness 
of  a moist  atmosphere.  Though  his  dramatic  intuition  dictates 
a sunset,  he  always  imposes  at  the  same  time  a sense  of  the  advent 
of  night,  and  one  feels  that  dew  is  forming  in  the  shadows,  every 
green  thing  is  breathing  once  more,  and  the  suffering  and  pain 
depicted  will  soon  be  relieved  by  tears  and  the  invasion  of 
that  great  stillness.  In  The  Battle  of  Arbela  it  is  surely  a 
sunrise,  not  a sunset.  The  crescent  moon  is  waning  and  fading 
over  Darius,  but  over  Alexander  the  sun  mounts  marvellous  with 
g\°ry. 

It  is  true  that  this  happy  optimism  has  deep  resources  ot 
pathos,  as  in  the  Flagellation  of  The  Fall  and  Redemption  of  Man, 
or  the  copperplate  of  the  Virgin  peering  through  the  temple  cloisters 
at  her  lost  twelve-year-old  disputing  among  the  doctors.  In  this 

30  " 


last,  with  a gesture  that  brings  the  heart  into  the  mouth,  he  seems 
to  anticipate  Rembrandt.  And  I have  heard  a distinguished 
artist  remark  what  a welcome  treasure  the  woodcuts  of  The 
Fall  and  Redemption  of  Man  must  have  been  to  the  giant 
Dutchman,  who  has  treated  the  same  noble  theme  with  more 
dramatic  power  and  intimate  emotion  than  it  has  evoked  in  any 
other  soul. 


3i 


PAINTINGS 


The  paintings  by  Altdorfer  divide  themselves  into  two  classes — 

A class  on  which  no  pains  has  been  spared,  which  are  in  their 
own  way  as  accomplished  as  the  work  of  Van  Eyck  or  Diirer ; 
and  a class  of  works  which,  however  interesting  the  design  may  be, 
are  more  or  less  coarsely  and  carelessly  carried  out. 

It  is  also  remarkable  that,  while  the  dewy  aerial  colour  makes 
one  of  the  chief  charms  of  the  first  class,  heavy  opaque  or  crudely 
harsh  tones  are  the  rule  and  not  the  exception  in  the  second. 

As  there  is  no  division  between  the  dates  of  the  two  classes,  it 
seems  natural  to  conclude  that  the  latter  are  commercial  pictures, 
executed  in  the  workshop  but  not  entirely  by  the  hand  of  the 
master ; and  even  where  his  hand  must  certainly  be  recognised,  it 
was  no  doubt  a foregone  conclusion  that  he  would  not  expend 
more  than  a certain  measure  of  care  over  such  works. 

The  first  class  is  of  course  the  most  important,  and  I think  fully 
justifies  the  mention  of  Van  Eyck’s  name.  Not  that  I for  a 
moment  want  to  pretend  that  Altdorfer  can  rank  with  this  great 
and  august  painter  of  little  pictures ; there  is  a harmony,  dignity, 
and  restraint  in  the  works  of  the  great  Flemish  artist  which  the 
playful,  whimsical  Bavarian  never  rises  to.  But  much  has  been 
ignorantly  written  about  Altdorfer’s  technical  insufficiency,  in 
English  as  well  as  in  other  tongues.  Now  this  technical  inferiority 
never  existed  save  in  the  imaginations  of  the  uninformed.  A 
scarcely  more  wonderful  skill  goes  to  the  use  of  pigment  in  the 
pictures  of  the  great  Van  Eyck  than  is  shown  in  such  pictures 
as  Susanna  at  the  Bath,  the  Flight  into  Egypt,  or  the  little  St. 
George.  There  is  even  in  the  two  latter  instances  an  imagin- 
ative invention  of  handling  to  which  Van  Eyck  presents  no 
parallel.  Diirer  certainly  did  not  paint  so  well,  had  less  intuition 

32 


in  the  treatment  of  pigment.  If  he  rises  far  above  Altdorfer,  it  is 
by  that  high  seriousness  of  conception  and  that  impeccable  mastery 
of  drawing  wherein  he  has  no  rival,  not  in  the  handling  of  pigment 
or  the  wedding  of  colours.  No  doubt  the  master  of  Ratisbon  had 
never  studied  the  human  form  profoundly ; but  then  he  never 
treated  it  but  as  a secondary  motive.  And  is  not  the  great 
Albrecht  a child  in  the  treatment  of  aerial  colour  and  perspective 
compared  with  his  little  namesake  ? Perhaps  no  gift  of  Altdorfer’s 
is  so  unique  as  Durer’s  control  over  his  wrist,  yet  not  only  has  he 
first-rate  gifts,  but  he  has  a marvellous  proficiency,  and  needs  no 
pity  when  compared  with  the  little  masters  with  whom  he  has 
been  ignorantly  classed,  and  not  one  of  whom  can  for  a moment 
hold  a candle  to  his  achievement. 

One  or  two  of  his  engravings  show  that  he  was  not  out  of  all 
danger  from  the  decadence  in  taste  and  power  which  holds  them. 
A hint  of  later  unhappy  developments  of  painting  may  be  traced 
perhaps  in  the  “Wealth  and  Poverty,”  the  latest  in  date  of  the 
pictures  remaining  to  us,  which  shows,  besides  a tendency,  already 
noticeable  in  the  lace-like  sky  of  the  Susanna,  to  an  over-elabora- 
ion,  a finicky  delicacy  ; besides  this,  it  shows  that  the  sense  of 
mass  and  proportion  in  the  composition  as  a whole  has  loosened. 
However,  to  mention  this  is  probably  to  overstate  its  importance. 
The  “Wealth  and  Poverty”  would  most  likely  seem  quite  as 
exceptional,  could  we  recover  other  works  of  those  last  years,  as 
it  now  does. 

His  is,  beyond  the  shadow  of  a doubt,  the  third  name  in 
German  art ; and  the  distance  between  him  and  Cranach,  not  to 
mention  any  lesser  name,  is  more  considerable  than  that  which 
separates  him  from  Diirer  and  Flolbein.  For  variety  of  gifts  and 
resource,  he  stands  alone  ; and  when  one  considers  the  poetry  with 
which  his  works  are  instinct,  it  is  not  fanciful  to  style  him  the 
Giorgione  of  the  North,  a Giorgione,  alas!  little  loved  and  nigh 
forgotten,  but  whom,  now  that  the  carefulness  of  science  has  begun 
to  leaven  the  treatment  of  historical  art  criticism,  his  countrymen 
commence  to  appreciate  as  with  a balance,  though  their  eyes  and 
hearts  had  failed  to  recognise  and  love. 

A picture  once  in  the  Vienna  Gallery,  now  said  to  be  lost, 
is  described  as  a pure  landscape.  By  an  inferior  hand  a picture 
which  is  a pure  landscape  hangs  as  pair  to  the  little  St.  George  at 
Munich,  which  last  itself  consists  almost  entirely  of  the  foliage  of 
c 33 


trees.  There  is  besides  a moon-lit  landscape  behind  the  saintly 
persons  in  one  of  the  pictures  at  Siena.  Diirer  had  made 
studies  in  water-colours  after  nature,  drawings  of  localities  and 
buildings,  and  his  etching  of  the  Cannon  is  practically  a landscape 
Nevertheless  Altdorfer  is  originator,  north  of  the  Alps,  of  landscape 
as  a branch  of  painting,  the  rival  of  others.  Backgrounds  such 
as  that  beneath  The  Coronation  of  the  Virgin,  or  the  wood  in  the 
St.  George,  or  the  grey  Danube  broadly  sweeping  through  the  dark 
wooden  piers  of  a temporary  bridge  as  in  the  other  St.  Quirinus 
picture  at  Siena,  or  the  same  river  rounding  the  hills  in  that  at 
Nuremberg,  when  the  willow  wood  shudders  at  sundown,  or  the 
dawn  at  peep  behind  the  ruins  and  skeleton  bushes  of  the 
Nativity  at  Bremen;  such  backgrounds  are  as  novel,  as  genuine, 
as  refreshing,  as  those  divine  two  among  the  frescoes  by  Titian 
at  Padua.  To  take  a short-lived  effect  of  light,  to  treat  water 
because  it  was  water,  trees  because  they  are  trees,  directly  aiming 
at  their  most  individual  beauties,  this  was  to  open  new  ground, 
and  this  Altdorfer  does.  He  does  more ; for  there  are  some 
dozen  landscapes  etched  in  outline  of  great  delicacy  which  show 
a tendency  to  the  conventional  and  balanced  compositions  that 
have  since  lost  all  novelty,  though  here  they  are  joined  to  a 
curiosity  and  resource  that  can  never  age.  The  set  at  Vienna  has 
been  coloured  by  hand — Dr.  Dornhoffer  would  like  to  think  by 
the  artist  himself ; in  any  case,  they  are  but  little  advanced  by 
it  towards  giving  that  satisfaction  that  we  look  for  from  his 
works. 

Shallow  water  loiters  under  the  brick  arches  that  support  a mill 
or  warehouse,  and  out  of  it  frightened  women  lift  the  slender  body 
of  the  youthful  St.  Florian.  A baby  angel  swims  in  the  basin  of 
The  Fountain  at  Berlin  ; and  one  of  two  angels  almost  out  of 
their  teens  holds  both  hands  under  the  spouts  of  that  in  the 
engraving  of  the  same  name  ; the  holy  travellers  are  forgotten  in 
silent  joy  to  feel  the  cold  water  flow.  Moss  streams  from  ruins  and 
from  the  branches  of  trees  whose  gracious  swaying  makes  beautiful 
vast  spaces  of  sky.  His  buildings,  his  fountains,  though  the  most 
treacherous  ground  for  his  imagination,  are  often  retrieved  by  the 
way  they  are  knit  up  with  out-of-doors  or  by  homely  figures 
reclaimed  for  the  realm  of  use  and  wont.  Little  more  can  be 
attempted  than  to  give  some  notion  of  the  radical  love  of  beauty 
which  is  revealed  by  his  choice  of  motives.  The  pictures  must  be 

34 


seen.  The  Susanna  must  be  peered  into,  with  its  amazing 
fore -ground,  where  monkshood,  hollyhocks,  poppy,  buttercup, 
cowslip,  ragged  - robbin,  yellow  snap  - dragon,  clover,  violets, 
forget-me-not,  and  bluebells  spring  up,  together  with  the  grass, 
and  its  wonderful  snail-shell,  and,  farther  off,  the  little  table  with 
a box  and  two  dice  on  it. 


35 


DRAWINGS 


In  his  drawings  Altdorfer  is  probably  most  fortunate  in  his 
medium,  most  alive  to  what  it  requires  of  him.  He  approaches 
paper  with  reverence  ; far  from  regarding  it  as  so  much  space, 
whereon  to  disgorge  crude  fancies  or  cruder  observation,  but  as 
a thing  already  endowed  with  fine  qualities  which  should  be 
respected — and  whence  Beauty  calls  to  him,  as  she  is  said  to  have 
cried  to  Michael  Angelo  from  her  prison  in  the  block.  He  must 
liberate  and  enhance  ; if  there  is  creation,  the  paper,  paint-brush, 
subject  dictated  to  him  ; he  was  little  more  than  their  servant  : 
even  his  own  hand  taught  him  more  than  he  could  have  divined. 
Herein  his  are  in  striking  contrast  to  Albert  Diirers  drawings 
in  the  same  mediums. 

He  tints  his  sheets  amber,  green,  brown,  pale  and  dull  blue, 
or  grey.  The  line  he  employs  is  curved  and  rapid,  though  not 
so  curved  as  that  of  Diirer,  and  with  a wilfulness  very  different 
from  his  assured  composure.  Foliage  is  transformed  : becomes 
fan  - like,  seaweed  - like,  feathered,  plumed,  to  respond  to  the 
exigencies  of  the  crisp,  swift,  tapered,  or  taloned  stroke.  Some- 
times a similar  transformation  overtakes  drapery,  at  other  times 
the  suppleness  of  the  quill-point  leads  him  into  a loving  finish, 
that  not  even  a sixteenth-century  pinking  of  finery  can  over-weary. 
In  rapid  sketches,  roofs  and  walls  take  a mountain  or  wave-like 
curve,  and  when  he  is  at  leisure  pebble  after  pebble  will  be  rounded 
and  perfected  as  though  by  the  sedulous  waters  caress. 

No.  83  in  the  Print  Room  at  Berlin  is  a drawing  on  dull- 
blue  paper  both  in  black  and  white  line.  It  represents  a forest. 
At  the  foot  of  the  larches  lies  a young  man  with  all  the  appear- 
ance of  wealth  and  fashion, — he  is  dead,  his  curly  hair  is  straggled 
on  the  moss,  his  upturned  face  is  juvenile  ; on  the  right  hand  is 

36 


a ruin  with  mouldering  arches  of  stone  leading  inwards  through 
unfathomable  gloom,  over  them  the  rapacious  verdure  has  climbed 
and  towers  aloft.  Hither  comes  a bird,  sings,  and  flits  off  once 
more  ; here  is  the  dew  exhaled,  and  the  magical  undertones  of 
the  forest  are  prolonged  through  their  eternal  symphony,  but 
always  the  blood  stiffens  in  the  clothes  it  has  sopped,  and  cold 
takes  possession  of  the  body  that  was  once  Prince  Pyramus,  as 
Altdorfer  may  well  have  intended  that  we  should  know. 

No.  3 in  the  same  collection,  on  umber  paper,  is  also  perfect. 
It  represents  the  Agony  in  the  Garden.  In  the  immediate  fore- 
ground lie  the  sleeping  apostles.  Jesus  kneels  above  them  on 
the  right,  and  again  on  either  side  of  the  picture  trees  tower 
up.  In  the  middle  distance  is  a cliff,  on  the  brow  of  which 
sits  the  angel  holding  the  emptied  cup,  and  with  eyes  riveted 
by  the  gaze  of  Christ ; at  the  foot  of  the  cliff  and  immediately 
beneath  the  angel  approaches  the  traitor  with  the  high  priest’s 
servants,  unseen,  unheard  of  Him  they  come  to  take,  who  gazes 
constantly  over  their  heads.  The  whole  scene  is  bathed  in  a sad 
dignity  as  by  a hidden  moon.  These  two  drawings  are  not  less 
admirable  as  poetical  inventions  and  for  dramatic  propriety  than 
they  are  for  exquisite  delicacy  of  workmanship. 

There  are  at  Berlin  other  drawings  of  great  beauty — thirteen 
in  all.  I might  mention  No.  113,  an  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  in 
perfect  preservation,  which  is,  alas ! too  rarely  the  case.  The 
workmanship  is  rather  over-caligraphic,  though  the  foreground — 
pebbles,  etc. — is  worthy  of  notice  for  the  way  in  which  the  treat- 
ment is  adapted  to  the  objects.  No.  93,  a hunting  scene,  in 
which  the  horses  recall  Pisanello.  And  on  rougher  paper,  a 
landscape  representing  a water-mill  shows  an  admirable  variation 
of  treatment  to  meet  new  conditions. 

In  the  Albertina  at  Vienna  are  eleven  drawings  ascribed  to 
him,  but  many  of  very  doubtful  attribution.  No.  43,  Vol.  I.  A.  A., 
a Sacrifice  of  Abraham,  is,  however,  first-rate,  though  somewhat 
damaged  ; the  paper  may  have  been  cut  down,  as  the  drawing 
appears  to  have  continued  beyond  it. 

At  Munich  there  are  three  important  drawings  in  the  Print 
Room,  and  one  in  the  Library. 

Brunswick  has  two,  one  a most  interesting  design  representing 
Curtius  leaping  into  the  abyss.  The  dark-olive  paper  seems  to 
suggest  a night  scene,  as  does  also  the  empty  street.  The  gulf 

37 


has  opened  at  the  foot  of  a ruined  Gothic  porch  ; and,  magnifi- 
cently plumed,  the  hero  on  horseback  leaps  into  it.  If  conscious, 
the  poetry  that  insists  on  the  loneliness  which  must  be  the  real 
condition  of  every  heroic  action,  however  crowded  the  actual 
scene,  is  remarkable  ; and  can  one  doubt  its  being  conscious,  so 
many  unmistakable  instances  of  real  imagination  as  are  found 
in  our  artists  work? 

A drawing  in  the  possession  of  Ritter  von  Lanna,  originally 
from  Dr.  Lippmann’s  collection,  dated  1509,  the  Judgment  of 
Paris  ; rather  rubbed,  on  red  paper ; black  lines  faint,  and 
white  blurred  ; is  a most  important  work.  The  head  of  Paris, 
who  lies  in  a trance,  is  turned  away  from  the  three  goddesses, 
while  Hermes  in  the  furred  robe  of  a Faust  or  Paracelsus 
stands  over  him.  The  three  fair  rivals,  otherwise  naked,  wear 
the  grand  feathered  hats  which  are  so  dear  to  this  artist, 
and  lend  themselves  so  admirably  to  his  workmanship,  and 
in  the  mid-distance  on  the  right,  with  surely  not  an  accidental 
symbolism,  a little  figure  crosses  an  arched  wooden  bridge : 
the  usual  great  feathered  firs  and  larches  wave  their  boughs 
against  the  expanse  of  sky  above,  while,  at  the  foot  of  an 
elaborate  monument  which  rises  like  a fountain  in  the  centre 
mid  - distance,  the  Prince  of  Troy’s  charger  attends  ready  to 
bear  him  away  to  his  fate. 


38 


ENGRAVINGS 

In  his  engraved  work,  also,  Altdorfer  is  truly  original ; he  is  eminently 
the  scholar  of  burin  and  knife,  and  more  concerned  about  what 
should  be  done  than  what  it  was  usual  to  do.  There  is  no  sign 
of  an  effort  to  eclipse  former  achievements  or  to  outdo  others  in 
mastery,  and  so  in  a very  definite  sense  he  may  be  said  to  be  more 
convinced  and  more  earnest  than  Diirer,  whose  stupendous  manual 
dexterity  is  apt  to  become  tyrannical  and  fall  into  merely  frigid 
display.  It  is  the  presence  of  this  earnestness  and  docility  which 
gives  his  work  so  original  and  spontaneous  an  air,  and  which  has 
led  to  the  conviction  that  he  engraved  his  Fall  and  Redemption 
of  Man  himself,  although  there  is  no  material  evidence  to  prove 
that  this  was  the  case  ; and,  considering  the  mastery  of  many 
engravers  of  his  school  whom  he  might  have  employed,  the 
supposition  is  hardly  to  be  called  necessary,  despite  the  intuitive 
calculation  on  the  knifes  capacities  which  the  design  and 
workmanship  betray.  Whether  he  did  engrave  them  or  not,  they 
are  more  truly  wood  engravings  and  less  merely  pen  drawings 
facsimiled  than  any  others  of  his  time  or  country,  with  the  sole 
exception  of  those  by  Wolf  Huber,  his  most  distinguished  pupil, 
who,  it  is  certainly  still  less  possible  to  doubt,  was  his  own 
interpreter. 

The  wood  engraving  of  the  Return  of  the  Spies  (B  : 42),  I think 
we  shall  not  be  wrong  in  describing  as  inspired  by  some  plate 
after  or  by  Mantegna,  and  we  ought  in  any  case  to  add,  most 
happily  inspired. 

His  work  with  the  burin  is  experimental  without  being  im- 
patient ; and  the  minuteness  and  delicacy  of  his  technique  are  as 
remarkable  as  in  his  best  paintings.  He  seems  to  have  above  all 
aimed  at  a sort  of  coloured  glow.  To  the  superlative  qualities  of 

39 


monumental  build  and  august  design  which  mark  the  chief  master- 
pieces of  Differ,  he  can  of  course  lay  no  claim,  and  perhaps  it  is 
his  highest  praise  to  say,  that  only  occasionally  with  the  burin,  and 
never  in  work  on  the  wood  block,  does  Durer  surpass  him  in  rich- 
ness of  black  and  white  effect. 

No  doubt  the  influence  of  Differ  is  traceable  through  his  work 
in  this  medium,  but  the  thing  to  be  remarked  is  how  slight  the 
traces  are  ! how  unimportant ! The  same  may  be  said  of  several 
adaptations  that  he,  in  common  with  other  artists  of  the  time, 
has  made  from  Italian  nielli.  In  the  case  of  Differ  it  would  be 
wise  to  desire  that  Altdorfer  should  in  some  respects  have  been 
more  genuinely  his  imitator ; and  yet  how  can  we  tell  ? it  might 
have  made  him  pompous  and  absurd,  as  was  often  the  case  with 
Wordsworth  imitating  Milton. 

It  is  among  his  works  with  the  burin  that  are  found  the  chief 
evidences  of  his  commerce  with  Italy — copies  of  figures  from 
Italian  engravings  very  much  reduced,  and  generally  with  a more 
intimate  charm  added,  and  a composition  humoured  from  bald  and 
rhetorical  effect  into  some  kinship  with  his  own  more  snugly  laid- 
out  little  plates. 

Often  it  is  the  treatment  of  the  nude  that  leads  him  to  study 
these  engravings,  such  subjects  as  Venus  and  Cupid,  Lucretia, 
Apollo  and  Diana.  The  sense  of  harmony  in  regard  to  the 
human  figure  has  been  always  weak  north  of  the  Alps ; and 
early  German  or  Flemish  works  often  seem  grotesque,  from  the 
absence  of  any  perception  that  the  body  is  beautiful,  as  though 
the  blinding  power  of  the  Christian  superstition  in  regard  to  it 
had  been  confirmed  by  the  cold  which  made  nudity  itself  timid 
and  as  it  were  shamefaced.  So  we  can  readily  understand  the 
fascination  such  work  had  for  him. 

It  would  be  fruitless  to  go  into  detailed  observations  on  his 
technical  excellencies  ; there  exists  no  vocabulary  suited  to  such 
a purpose,  and  the  uneasy  jargons  which  one  is  tempted  to  resort 
to  bring  a kind  of  ridicule  upon  a subject  that  those  who  best 
understand  will  be  most  careful  to  respect. 

There  is  a considerable  use  of  etching  in  a few’  of  his  plates, 
and  he  may  probably  have  often  sketched  his  subject  in  the 
first  instance  thus.  The  Crucifixion,  B.  8,  is  the  most  important 
of  those  plates  which  show  no  trace  of  an  etched  line.  It  has 
been  left  unfinished  ; the  figures  are  exceptionally  stately  ; while 

40 


the  conception  of  this  lonely  cross  in  the  pine  wood  may  serve  to 
bring  us  back  to  Altdorfer  the  poet,  the  Giorgione  of  the  North, 
who  has  banished  the  two  thieves,  and  banished  the  soldiers,  out 
of  respect  for  the  heart-stricken  mourners  over  whom  the  beloved 
Master,  Friend,  and  Son  hangs  and  speaks  in  his  latest  solicitude  for 
the  disciple  whom  he  best  loved,  and  the  mother  whom  his  victory 
bereaves.  Behind,  the  Franconian  mountains  have  come  near, 
and  an  old  German  town,  where  a memento  of  this  scene  will  be 
carved  or  painted  beside  every  torrent’s  bridge  and  wayside 
fountain,  in  every  bedroom,  every  council  hall,  and  windowed 
church. 


4i 


CONCLUSION 


Everything  difficult  or  laboured  must  lessen  the  beauty  of  a 
work  of  art.  There  must  be  no  trace  of  more  constraint  than 
goes  to  a labour  of  love  as  entrancing  and  more  beneficent  than 
any  pleasure. 

It  is  wisdom  to  go  the  shortest  way  to  work,  and  if  there  is 
paper  and  camel’s-hair  pencil,  the  easiest  line  that  can  be  made 
with  the  one  on  the  other  is  that  which  the  true  artist  will  choose 
as  the  basis  of  his  workmanship.  Of  course  the  easiest  line  for 
one  hand  is  not  the  easiest  for  another,  for  one  star  differs  from 
another  star  in  glory ; but  it  is  the  same  light,  the  same  felicity. 
Whatever  cannot  be  so  rendered,  such  an  one  will  set  aside  and 
determine  not  to  attempt.  This  delicacy  of  economy  that  will 
never  in  the  least  strain  the  means  it  employs,  is  the  main  con- 
dition of  that  beauty  which  depends  on  the  handicraft ; and  there 
is  a kind  of  artists  always  inclined  to  regard  this  as  the  only 
legitimate  beauty  to  be  aimed  at ; and  they  have  reason  by  just 
so  much  as  it  is  true  that,  however  sincerely  other  beauties  may 
be  striven  after,  if  this  be  neglected  or  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
aspirant,  there  can  be  no  real  aesthetic  success.  Even  design  will 
be  found  to  depend,  in  a far  greater  degree  than  might  seem 
probable,  on  a nice  appreciation  of  the  capacity  of  means  and 
material  employed.  None  the  less  there  are  other  beauties  that 
appeal  solely  to  thought  and  imagination,  a dramatic  insight 
and  a dignity  of  conception  which  are  wholly  proper  to,  and 
perhaps  necessary  for,  the  loftiest  flights  of  art. 

Though  I have  enlarged  interpretatively  on  the  beauty  of 
plastic  work,  there  is  no  need  to  foster  the  faintest  illusion  as  to 
the  futility  of  attempting  to  render  in  words  the  very  beauty 
conveyed  in  drawing  or  picture.  Bad  works  of  art  may  furnish 

42 


admirable  descriptions,  as  with  Keats’  “Ode  to  a Grecian  Urn  ” was 
the  case.  And  many  beautiful  pictures  have  illustrated  works  of 
no  account  in  literature,  as  did  Titian’s  so-called  Sacred  and 
Profane  Love.  However,  the  greatest  artist  of  modern  Germany 
has  shown  us  that  we  need  not  be  deterred  by  this  from  trying  to 
interpret  plastic  beauty.  He  says : “ The  achievement  of  the 
artist — the  work  of  art — is  apprehended  by  others  purely  in 
accordance  with  their  own  intuitions.  How  can  an  artist  expect 
that  what  he  has  felt  intuitively  should  be  perfectly  realised  by 
others,  seeing  that  he  himself  feels  in  the  presence  of  his  work,  if 
it  is  true  art,  that  he  is  confronted  by  a riddle,  about  which  he 
too  might  have  illusions,  just  as  another  might?  Now,  would 
you  suppose  it  possible  for  an  artist  to  be  helped  to  a clear 
understanding  of  his  own  work  by  an  intelligence  other  than  his 
own  ? . . . For  I must  confess  to  having  arrived  at  a clear  under- 
standing of  my  own  works  of  art  through  the  help  of  another, 
who  has  provided  me  with  the  reasoned  conceptions  corresponding 
to  my  intuitive  principles.” 

Now  very  likely  we  may  think  that  “ reasoned  conceptions  ” and 
“intuitive  principles”underlying  “things  of  beauty ’’amuse  Germans, 
even  such  Germans  as  Wagner  himself,  a great  deal  more  than 
they  help  or  forward  them.  Yet  it  is  quite  true  that  another’s 
description,  or  even  his  mere  cry  of  pleasure,  may  reveal  a 
beauty  that  had  hitherto  remained  sealed  from  us.  Even  this 
may  be  the  case,  on  some  quite  foreign  encounter  with  thought 
or  phrase  or  spectacle  ; the  beauty  we  have  studied  in  vain  is 
suddenly  melted  in  the  mind,  and  afar  from  the  shrine,  for  a 
first  time  we  yield  heart’s  worship  to  its  arcana.  Then  let  it  not 
be  judged  impertinent  to  say  anything  about  things  of  beauty 
which  we  have  been  genuinely  moved  to  say.  For  Chance  is  a 
great  goddess,  and  the  tone  of  a voice,  a mood,  or  a smile  may 
better  bring  beauty  home  than  the  most  exact  analysis.  We  are 
in  the  same  case  as  little  children,  who  must  be  taught  how  best 
they  can  learn,  and  not  merely  in  that  way  which  makes  exposition 
most  methodical. 

What  then  is  it  that  we  may  consider  ourselves  to  receive  from 
contemplation  of  this  artist  and  his  works  ? 

First,  as  with  all  the  less  ambitious  masters,  assurance  that 
attention  to  the  suggestions  to  be  drawn  from  the  materials,  the 
tools,  the  facilities  native  to  hand  and  mind,  as  also  to  the  spirit 

43 


really  active  for  him  in  the  chosen  subject — that  attention  to  these 
things  results  in  a man  working  on  in  the  spirit  of  tradition  even 
after  he  has  attained  to  power  with  which  he  might  set  it  at  nought, 
and  win  freedom  to  express  not  only  the  beauty  revealed  to  him, 
but  every  eccentricity,  desire,  or  caprice  with  which  he  has  been 
saddled  by  nature.  For  a tradition  is,  from  the  manner  of  its 
growth,  necessarily  founded  on  experience,  and  though  it  may 
be  advanced  can  never  be  safely  discarded  — however  it,  to  an 
eager  and  capable  intelligence,  appear  associated  with  a purblind 
conservatism  of  trade-jealousy  and  craft-bigotry. 

Secondly,  may  we  not  be  thankful  that  the  beauty  revealed  to 
Altdorfer,  like  that  of  the  best  tales  by  Hans  Andersen,  breathes  a 
spirit  of  such  winsome  and  cordial  homeliness  that  it  actually  seems 
to  invite  and  welcome  our  study  ; and  that  we  find  it  blended 
with  a playfulness  which,  however  fanciful,  seems  to  be  saved 
from  the  obstinacy  and  violence  of  caprice  ? For  these  qualities 
refresh  us  while  they  enchant.  We  are  not  jaded  by  the  pleasure 
they  impart ; nor  do  they  leave  us  “high-sorrowful  and  cloyed.” 

Thirdly,  his  work,  with  its  profound  pathos  and  exhilarating 
landscape  beauty,  frequently  raises  us  towards  the  region  of  the 
most  lofty,  most  serious  art ; while  his  skill  with  pencil,  burin,  knife, 
and  pigment  introduces  us  into  the  near  neighbourhood  of  masters 
of  the  highest  rank,  such  as  Rembrandt,  Durer,  and  Van  Eyck, 
however  much  he  may  fall  short  of  their  intellectual  range,  their 
unflagging  seriousness,  their  exhaustive  science. 

His  worldly  success  no  doubt  depended  on  yet  other  qualities 
and  on  the  stirring  spirit  of  the  times  in  which  he  lived,  that  was 
ready  to  welcome  every  adventurous  effort  directed  towards  truth, 
goodness,  or  beauty,  with  an  enthusiasm  which  is  apt  to  win  from 
us  nowadays  a disillusioned  smile  such  as  the  middle-aged  too  often 
award  to  virtues  of  the  young  which  put  them  to  shame. 

If  a thought  for  our  warning  should  be  added  to  the  consider- 
ation of  the  excellencies  of  this  helpful  artist,  let  it  be  in  the  words 
of  him  who  with  most  authority  has  written  in  English  upon 
painting:  “Art  has  its  boundaries  though  imagination  has  none.” 
Yes,  Reynolds  is  right,  and  artists  “need  not  be  mortified  or 
discouraged  at  not  being  able  to  execute  the  conceptions  of  a 
romantic  imagination.”  We  feel  how  right  he  was,  when,  on 
turning  to  the  works  of  Arnold  Bocklin,  so  admired  to-day  in 
Germany,  we  see  that  the  vulgarising  and  ignorant  licence  too 

44 


often  characteristic  of  modernity  has  played  havoc  with  endowments 
which,  though  always  perhaps  more  vigorous  than  delicate,  might 
originally  have  claimed  some  kinship  with  those  of  Altdorfer.  But 
Altdorfer  himself  would  undoubtedly  not  have  been  so  secure  from 
similar  temptations  had  he  not  been  safeguarded  by  the  discipline 
of  a living  tradition. 

To  Germany,  who  sustained  him  with  her  characteristic 
prudence,  humble  industry,  and  patient  application,  he  should 
appear  as  a prophet — even  as  all  those  who,  in  the  past,  have 
gone  on  before,  should  rightly  be  considered  — a prophet  who 
promises  that  their  virtues  of  industry  and  application  shall  be 
united  not  only,  as  Dlirer  and  Holbein  proclaim,  with  supreme 
dignity  and  perfect  balance,  but  with  that  sweetness  and  buoyancy 
which  form  the  charmed  atmosphere  of  the  noblest  efforts  of 
Greece  and  Italy. 


45 


Note  I.  Page  32. 

The  Pictures  which  form  the  first  class  of  Paintings  are  : — 

1.  The  Battle  of  Arbela.  Dated  1529.  Altdorfer’s  largest  work,  measuring 
141  x 1 19  centimetres.  In  the  Pinakothek,  Munich,  290. 

2.  Susanna  at  the  Bath.  Dated  1526.  Also  in  the  Pinakothek  at  Munich,  289 
(75x61). 

3.  St.  George.  A tiny  picture,  measuring  27x21,  and  dated  1510.  Munich 
Pinakothek,  288. 

4.  The  Flight  into  Egypt.  The  Holy  Family  are  resting  by  a fountain.  Dated 
1510.  Berlin  Museum,  638B  (57  x 38). 

5.  The  Coronation  of  the  Virgin.  No  date ; monogram.  At  Munich,  291 
(66  x 38).  The  Resurrection  Morning,  a sketch,  is  on  the  back  of  the  panel. 

6.  A classical  subject  representing  a Satyr,  a naked  woman,  and  a child. 
Possibly  Dejaneira  and  Nessus.  This  picture  should  be  compared  with  the  St. 
George.  It  is  dated  1507.  Berlin,  638A. 

7.  A Nativity  in  the  Snow.  No  date;  monogram.  At  Vienna,  No.  1427. 

8.  St.  Joseph,  the  Virgin  and  Child,  and  St.  John.  Dated  1515;  monogram 
(23x21).  No.  1422  in  Vienna  Gallery.  It  is  to  be  remarked  that  the  figures  in 
this  little  panel  being  quite  as  large  in  scale  as  the  more  part  in  pictures  of  the 
second  class,  difference  in  scale  cannot  account  for  the  wide  divergence  in  skill 
and  method  which  divides  the  two  classes. 

9.  Crucifixion  (41x33).  Nuremberg,  German  Museum,  213.  Dated  1526 
(acc.  to  Friedlander ; formerly  read  1 506).  Monogram. 

10.  Two  panels,  St.  Francis  and  St.  Jerome.  At  Berlin,  No.  638.  Dated 
1507  ; monogram  (32  x 19  each  panel). 

11.  Wealth  and  Poverty.  Dated  1531;  monogram  (30x42).  At  Berlin,  No. 
638D. 

12.  Crucifixion.  Berlin  Museum,  638D.  No  date;  no  monogram. 

13.  Two  tall  panels  in  the  Convent  of  St.  Florian,  near  Enns.  Nos.  46  and 
47.  Commissioned  in  1525.  They  represent  the  Entombment  and  the  Resurrec- 
tion, and  appear  excellent,  though  hung  high  in  the  dark. 

14.  Nativity.  Berlin.  No  date  ; no  monogram. 

15.  The  Beheading  of  John  the  Baptist,  in  the  collection  of  Ritter  von 
Lanna,  which  has  been  attributed  to  Altdorfer’s  most  distinguished  pupil, 
Wolf  Huber,  by  Dr.  Schmidt,  but  I incline  to  give  it  to  his  master.  It  is 
much  more  finished  on  the  left  hand  than  on  the  right,  and  probably  reveals 
something  of  Altdorfer’s  method.  It  is  very  pleasant  in  colour,  and  bears  neither 
date  nor  monogram. 


46 


The  Pictures  which  form  the  second  class  are  : 


1.  The  Birth  of  Mary.  Augsburg  Gallery,  2,  already  described,  page  14.  No 
date ; no  monogram. 

2.  A picture  representing  Bathsheba  washing  her  feet  in  the  Danube.  In  the 
Museum  at  Ratisbon  it  is  hung  high  and  in  the  dark.  The  colour  seems  to  place 
it  in  the  second  class,  but  it  seems  carefully  worked.  Though  it  has  been 
attributed  to  Ostendorfer,  both  design  and  invention  are  of  the  first  order,  and  I 
have  no  hesitation  in  ascribing  it  at  least  in  these  particulars  to  Altdorfer.  Neither 
signed  nor  dated. 

3.  Three  pictures  at  Nuremberg,  and  two  at  Siena,  supposed  to  illustrate  the 
legend  of  Florian  or  of  Quirinus.  These  vary  much  among  themselves  in  point 
of  skill  and  also  of  interest  as  designs.  No.  248  at  Nuremberg  is  full  of  Altdorfer’s 
spirit,  and  so  painted  as  to  make  it  almost  deserve  a place  in  the  first  class.  No. 
246  in  the  same  Gallery  one  would  be  glad  to  think  he  had  nothing  to  do  with, 
though  the  architectural  background  is  similar  in  treatment  and  colour  to  that  in 
the  wonderful  Augsburg  picture,  over  which  Altdorfer  must  have  presided,  and 
which  in  point  of  composition  and  invention  yields  to  none  of  his  works.  I have 
not  seen  the  pictures  of  this  series  at  Siena. 

4.  The  St.  Florian  pictures.  Besides  the  two  mentioned  in  the  first  class, 
there  are  in  this  beautifully  situated  Dominican  convent  eight  compositions, 
measuring  110x93,  representing  the  scenes  of  the  Passion.  They  are  very 
direct,  though  careless  in  handling,  crude  in  colour,  and  not  matured  as  composi- 
tions. That  representing  the  Crucifixion  has  the  same  arrangement  of  crosses 
as  in  the  pen  and  wash  drawing  in  the  Albertina,  No.  49,  of  which  there  are 
replicas  or  copies  in  Ritter  von  Lanna’s  collection,  at  Berlin,  and  in  the  Louvre. 
In  my  opinion  none  of  these  drawings  are  by  Altdorfer,  but  they  represent  the 
composition  of  a picture  far  more  worthy  of  him  than  this  Crucifixion  of  St. 
Florian’s. 

The  types  of  feature,  etc.,  in  these  pictures  are  closely  allied  to  or  identical 
with  those  in  Altdorfer’s  work,  and  I believe  them  to  have  been  produced  in  his 
workshop.  There  are  besides  four  other  pictures  of  like  proportions,  two  of  which, 
the  Martyrdom  of  St.  Sebastian,  and  the  Finding  of  the  Body  of  St.  Florian,  are 
very  superior  in  design  and  invention.  The  other  two  deal  with  the  life  of  the 
latter  saint. 

The  whole  twelve  pictures  formed  an  altarpiece  a doubles  battatits , and  until 
forty  years  ago  were  joined  together  in  couples,  one  above  the  other.  They  were 
then  cleaned  by  Enders  of  Vienna,  sawn  apart,  and  reframed.  Two  large  and  tall 
panels,  forming  together  a Gothic  arch,  represent,  that  on  the  left  St.  Margaret 
and  St.  Barbara  enthroned,  that  on  the  right  Dom-Petrus  Prepositus  kneeling  before 
them  in  prayer.  He  it  was  who  commissioned  this  picture  during  a journey  to 
Augsburg  which  he  undertook  in  1525.  The  whole  altar,  which  apparently 
included  the  two  small  panels,  was  erected  as  a protection  against  the  plague  and 
sudden  death,  St.  Sebastian  being  joined  with  the  local  patron  because  of  his 
violent  end,  and  SS.  Margaret  and  Barbara  as  representing  the  desired  triumph 
over  temptations  and  a happy  death.  The  portrait  of  Petrus  Prepositus  is  more 
carefully  executed  than  any  other  part  of  the  large  panels. 

In  these  lists  only  those  pictures  which  I myself  have  examined  are  mentioned ; 
however,  I have  little  doubt  that  the  St.  Hubert  at  Glasgow  and  the  Nativity  at 

47 


Bremen  would  make  important  additions  to  the  first  list,  and  that  there  are  several 
of  minor  importance  which  belong  to  it  as  well. 


Note  II.  Page  38. 

Ritter  von  Larina  owns  several  Altdorfer  drawings,  which, 
as  Dr.  Friedlander  did  not  see  this  collection,  I shall  enumerate  : — 

No.  18  in  the  catalogue  of  the  Klinkosch  sale.  A small  upright  drawing.  A 
woman  standing  on  a man  in  a landscape ; she  holds  flowers  caught  up  with  the 
folds  of  her  skirt.  White  and  black  line  on  fawn-coloured  paper.  Dated  1509, 
and  signed  with  monogram.  Probably  St.  Margaret  and  the  Demon. 

No.  24  in  the  catalogue  of  the  Klinkosch  sale.  A man  in  slashed  sleeves  with 
a spear  and  sword.  On  red-brown  paper  in  white  and  black  line.  Dated  1512  ; no 
monogram.  Very  beautiful  in  workmanship. 

No.  22  in  the  catalogue  of  the  Klinkosch  sale.  A woman  with  a huge  flag, 
and  floating  skirts  and  feathers  in  her  hat ; she  is  dancing.  No  date ; no  monogram. 

A drawing,  black  and  white  line  on  reddish  paper.  Dated  1508  ; no  monogram. 
Open,  bold  workmanship.  A young  man  with  an  uprooted  sapling  on  his  shoulder 
coming  forward  from  between  two  large  trees. 

A St.  George.  Dated  1512.  On  brown  paper  in  black  and  white  line.  Very 
delicate. 

A drawing  formerly  in  the  Camesina  collection.  Is  probably  by  Altdorfer.  It 
represents  two  soldiers,  in  fine  clothes,  talking. 


Note  III.  (List  of  Illustrations). 

The  Adoration  of  the  Magi  at  Sigmaringen,  if  it  is  by 
Altdorfer,  must  undoubtedly  take  its  place  in  the  first  class ; 
Dr.  Friedlander  and  Mr.  Campbell  Dodgson,  who  have  examined 
it,  consider  it  to  be  his,  the  latter  basing  his  impression  on  a 
strong  colour  resemblance.  Dr.  Schmidt,  however,  has  doubted 
it,  and  from  examination  of  a photograph  I am  inclined  to  agree 
with  him.  In  any  case,  it  would  seem  hardly  possible  that  it 
should  have  been  painted  ten  years  before  The  Coronation  of  the 
Virgin,  at  Munich,  as  Dr.  Friedlander  supposes;  the  drawing  of 
the  Child  is  so  much  more  academical  in  conception  and  aim. 


48 


Pyramus  Dead  ; a drawing  in  the  Berlin  Print  Room . 


/ 


— r:- 


The  Holy  Family  at  the  Fountain:  in  the  Berlin  Gallery . 


i-r 


The  Birth  of  the  Virgin : in  the  Augsburg  Gallery. 


Susanna  at  the  Bath:  in  the  Munich  Gallery. 


f 


.1 


The  Battle  of  A reel  a : in  the  Munich  Gallery. 


The  Satyr  Family : in  the  Berlin  Gallery. 


The  Nativity : in  the  Vienna  Gallery. 


The  Sacrifice  of  Abraham , 


a drawing  in  the  Albertina,  Vienna . 


The  Departure  of  Quirinus:  in  the  Siena  Gallery. 


Sr.  George;  in  the  Munich  Gallery. 


The  Agony  in  the  Garden : a drawing  in  the  Berlin  Print  Room, 


The  Adoration  of  the  Magi  ; in  the  Sigmaringen  Gallery. 


' 1 ■ • :■ . v.  ■ s.  ' 


The  Martyrdom  of  Quirinus  ; in  the  Siena  Gallery . 


K 


The  Adoration  of  the  Magi:  a drawing  in  the  Berlin  Print  Room. 


MEW* 


Poverty  and  Riches:  in  the  Berlin  Gallery. 


Madonna  and  Child:  in  the  Munich  Gallery 


•' ; i 

■ - $ 


The  Madonna  with  the  Cradle. 


St.  Christopher 


The  Crucifixion. 


/ 


4f 


The  Return  of  the  Spies . 


■/ 


/ !■ 


The  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds. 


St.  Christopher 


4 


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